S>  \  J3»   O         Cc 


£ 
tymw 


\\t  I N I V  ERJ/A         ^ 
-  ^ 


^L-UBI 

?r>        § 


<      i 


^ 


j,\HIB«ARY<V 


Wfr 

--     i        ,-4,.,^.~V,     •  '•         's': 


•  Of-f  *J'FO?- 


lOS-ASGflfj:, 


OF'CAl 


?.^P"      l| 

"%a]AiNa-3ftv* 


g  g  fVyWA  g 

:§  ~       V  '     —    ' 

>•  £f     0 
? 


\ME  l)NI\ 


I  I  §  ^  J!  I  § 


m  I 


^.OF-CAil 


o  j  :?      o 


THE  STRANGE  STORY  BOOK 


With  8  Coloured 

With  8  Coloured 

With  8  Coloured 

With  6  Coloured 


THE    FAIRY    BOOK    SERIES. 

EDITED   BY  ANDEEW  LANG. 

Price  Six  Shillings  each  volume. 

THE  BLUE  FAIEY  BOOK.  With  138  Illustrations. 
THE  BED  FAIEY  BOOK.  With  100  Illustrations. 
THE  GEEEN  FAIEY  BOOK.  With  101  Illustrations. 
THE  GEEY  FAIEY  BOOK.  With  65  Illustrations. 
THE  YELLOW  FAIEY  BOOK.  With  104  Illustra- 
tions. 

THE  PINK  FAIEY  BOOK.  With  67  Illustrations. 
THE  VIOLET  FAIEY  BOOK.  With  8  Coloured 

Plates  and  54  other  Illustrations. 
THE   CEIMSON   FAIEY   BOOK.     With   8   Coloured 

Plates  and  43  other  Illustrations. 
THE    BEOWN    FAIEY    BOOK. 

Plates  and  42  other  Illustrations. 
THE     OLIVE    FAIEY    BOOK. 

Plates  and  43  other  Illustrations. 
THE    OEANGE   FAIEY   BOOK. 

Plates  and  50  other  Illustrations. 
THE    LILAC     FAIEY    BOOK. 

Plates  and  46  other  Illustrations. 

THE  BLUE  POETEY  BOOK.  With  100  Illustrations. 
THE  TEUE  STOEY  BOOK.  With  66  Illustrations. 
THE  EED  TEUE  STOEY  BOOK.  With  100  Illus- 

trations. 

THE  ANIMAL  STOEY  BOOK.  With  67  Illustrations. 
THE  EED  BOOK  OF  ANIMAL  STOEIES.  With 

65  Illustrations. 
THE     AEABIAN    NIGHTS     ENTEETAINMENTS. 

With  66  Illustrations. 
THE  BOOK  OF  EOMANCE.     By  Mrs.  LANG.     With 

8  Coloured  Plates  and  44  other  Illustrations. 
THE  EED  EOMANCE  BOOK.    By  Mrs.  LANG.     With 

8  Coloured  Plates  and  44  other  Illustrations. 
THE     BOOK    OF    PEINCES    AND    PEINCESSES. 

By  Mns.  LANG.    With  8  Coloured   Plates   and   43    other 

Illustrations. 
THE   EED   BOOK   OF   HEEOES.      By  MRS.  LANG. 

With  8  Coloured  Plates  and  40  other  Illustrations. 
THE  BOOK  OF  SAINTS  AND  HEEOES.     By  Mrs. 

LANG.     With  12  Coloured  Plates  and  18  other  Illustrations 
THE   ALL   SOETS  OF  STOEIES  BOOK.    By  MBS. 

LANG.    With  5  Coloured  Plates  and  43  other  Illustrations 
THE    STEANGE    STOEY    BOOK.    By    Mrs.   LANG. 

With    Portrait   of    ANDREW   LANG.    12   Coloured   Plates 

and  18  other  Illustrations. 


TALES  OF  TEOY  AND  GEEECE.  By  ANDREW 
LANG.  With  17  Illustrations  by  H.  J.  FORD,  and  a  Map 
Crown  8vo.  2*.  Gd.  net. 

LONGMANS,  GREEN,  AND  CO.,  39  Paternoster  Bow  London  • 
New  York,  Bombay,  and  Calcutta. 


/ 


4 


THE 

STRANGE    STORY  BOOK 

BY 

MRS.  LANG 
EDITED  BY  ANDREW  LANG 


WITH  PORTRAIT   OF  ANDREW  LANG 

AND  12  COLOURED  PLATES  AND 
NUMEROUS   OTHER  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  H.  J.  FORD 


LONGMANS,    GREEN,    AND    CO. 

39  PATERNOSTER    ROW.  LONDON 

NEW  YORK.  BOMBAY,  AND  CALCUTTA 

1913 

[All     rights   reserved] 


p. 


Mas.  ANDREW  LANG  desires  to  give  her  most  grateful 
thanks  to  the  Authorities  of  the  Smithsonian  Institu- 
tion Bureau  of  American  Ethnology  for  permission 
to  include  in  her  Christmas  book  the  Tlingit  stories 
collected  by  Dr.  JOHN  R.  S  WAN  TON. 


PREFACE 

TO  THE  CHILDREN 

AND  now  the  time  has  come  to  say  good-bye  ;  and  good-byes 
are  always  so  sad  that  it  is  much  better  when  we  do  not 
know  that  we  have  got  to  say  them.  It  is  so  long  since 
Beauty  and  the  Beast  and  Cinderella  and  Little  Red  Riding 
Hood  came  out  to  greet  you  in  the  '  Blue  Fairy  Book,' 
that  some  of  you  who  wrore  pigtails  or  sailor  suits  in  those 
days  have  little  boys  and  girls  of  your  own  to  read  the 
stories  to  now,  and  a  few  may  even  have  little  baby  grand- 
children. Since  the  first  giants  and  enchanted  princes  and 
ill-treated  step-daughters  made  friends  with  you,  a  whole 
new  world  of  wheels  and  wings  and  sharp-voiced  bells  has 
been  thrown  open,  and  children  have  toy  motors  and 
aeroplanes  which  take  up  ah1  their  thoughts  and  time.  You 
may  see  them  in  the  street  bending  over  pictures  of  the 
last  machine  which  has  won  a  prize  of  a  thousand  pounds, 
and  picturing  to  themselves  the  day  when  they  shall  invent 
something  finer  still,  that  will  fly  higher  and  sail  faster  than 
any  of  those  which  have  gone  before  it. 

Now  as  this  is  the  very  last  book  of  all  this  series  that 
began  in  the  long  long  ago,  perhaps  you  may  like  to  hear 
something  of  the  man  who  thought  over  every  one  of  the 
twenty-five,  for  fear  lest  a  story  should  creep  in  which  he 
did  not  wish  his  little  boys  and  girls  to  read.  He  was  born 
when  nobody  thought  of  travelling  in  anything  but  a  train 
— a  very  slow  one — or  a  steamer.  It  took  a  great  deal  of 
persuasion  to  induce  him  later  to  get  into  a  motor  and  he  had 
not  the  slightest  desire  to  go  up  in  an  aeroplane — or  to  possess 


viii  PREFACE 

a  telephone.  Somebody  once  told  him  of  a  little  boy  who, 
after  giving  a  thrilling  account  at  luncheon  of  how  Randolph 
had  taken  Edinburgh  Castle,  had  expressed  a  desire  to  go 
out  and  see  the  Museum  ;  '  I  like  old  things  better  than  new,' 
said  the  child  !  '  I  wish  I  knew  that  little  boy,'  observed 
the  man.  '  He  would  just  suit  me.'  And  that  was  true, 
for  he  too  loved  great  deeds  of  battle  and  adventure  as  well 
as  the  curious  carved  and  painted  fragments  guarded  in 
museums  which  show  that  the  lives  described  by  Homer 
and  the  other  old  poets  were  not  tales  made  up  by  them 
to  amuse  tired  crowds  gathered  round  a  hall  fire,  but  were 
real — real  as  our  lives  now,  and  much  moie  beautiful  and 
splendid.  Very  proud  he  was  one  day  when  he  bought, 
in  a  little  shop  on  the  way  to  Kensington  Gardens,  a  small 
object  about  an  inch  high  which  to  his  mind  exactly  answered 
to  the  description  of  the  lion-gate  of  Mycenae,  only  that  now 
the  lions  have  lost  their  heads,  whereas  in  the  plaster  copy  from 
the  shop  they  still  had  eyes  to  look  at  you  and  mouths  to 
eat  you.  His  friends  were  all  sent  for  to  give  their  opinion  on 
this  wonderful  discovery,  but  no  two  thought  alike  about  it. 
One  declared  it  dated  from  the  time  of  Solomon  or  of  Homer 
himself,  and  of  course  it  would  have  been  delightful  to 
believe  that !  but  then  somebody  else  was  quite  certain 
it  was  no  more  than  ten  years  old,  while  the  rest  made 
different  guesses.  To  this  day  the  question  is  undecided, 
and  very  likely  always  will  be. 

All  beasts  were  his  friends,  just  because  they  were  beasts, 
unless  they  had  been  very  badly  brought  up.  He  never  could 
resist  a  cat,  and  cats,  like  beggars,  tell  each  other  these 
things  and  profit  by  them.  A  cat  knew  quite  well  that  it 
had  only  to  go  on  sitting  for  a  few  days  outside  the  window 
where  the  man  was  writing,  and  that  if  it  began  to  snow  or 
even  to  rain,  the  window  would  be  pushed  up  and  the  cat 
would  spend  the  rest  of  its  days  stretched  in  front  of  the  fire, 
with  a  saucer  of  milk  beside  it,  and  fish  for  every  meal. 

But  life  with  cats  was  not  all  peace,  and  once  a  terrible 
thing  happened  when  Dickon-draw-the-blade  was  the  Puss 
in  Possession.  His  master  was  passing  through  London 


PREFACE  ix 

on  the  way  to  take  a  journey  to  some  beautiful  old  walled 
towns  in  the  south  of  France  where  the  English  fought 
in  the  Hundred  Years  War,  and  he  meant  to  spend  a  few 
weeks  in  the  country  along  the  Loire  which  is  bound  up  with 
the  memory  of  Joan  of  Arc.  Unluckily,  the  night  after 
he  arrived  from  Scotland  Dickon  went  out  for  a  walk  on 
the  high  trellis  behind  the  house,  and  once  there  did  not 
know  how  to  get  down  again.  Of  course  it  was  quite  easy, 
and  there  were  ropes  of  Virginia  creeper  to  help,  but  Dickon 
lost  his  presence  of  mind,  and  instead  of  doing  anything 
sensible  only  stood  and  shrieked,  while  his  master  got  ladders 
and  steps  and  clambered  about  in  the  dark  and  in  the  cold, 
till  he  put  Dickon  on  the  ground  again.  Then  Dickon's 
master  went  to  bed,  but  woke  up  so  ill  that  he  was  obliged 
to  do  without  the  old  towns,  and  go  when  he  was  better  to 
a  horrid  place  called  Cannes,  all  dust  and  tea-parties. 

Well,  besides  being  fond  of  beasts,  he  loved  cricket,  and 
he  never  could  be  in  a  house  with  a  garden  for  hah*  an  hour 
without  trying  to  make  up  a  cricket  team  out  of  the  people 
who  were  sitting  about  declaring  it  was  too  hot  to  do  anything 
at  all ;  yet  somehow  or  other,  in  ten  minutes  they  were 
running  and  shouting  with  the  rest.  He  would  even  turn 
a  morning  call  to  account  in  this  way.  Many  years  ago, 
a  young  lady  who  wished  to  introduce  a  new  kind  of  dancing 
and  thought  he  might  be  of  use  to  her,  begged  a  friend  to 
invite  them  to  meet.  They  did  meet,  but  before  a  dozen 
words  had  been  exchanged  one  was  on  the  lawn  and  the  other 
in  the  drawing-room,  and  there  they  remained  to  the  end 
of  the  visit. 

Do  you  love  ghosts  ?  So  did  he,  and  often  and  often  he 
wanted  to  write  you  a  book  of  the  deadliest,  creepiest  ghost- 
stories  he  could  find  or  invent,  but  he  was  afraid  :  afraid 
not  of  the  children  of  course,  but  of  their  mothers,  who  were 
quite  certain  that  if  such  a  volume  were  known  only  to  be 
in  print,  all  kinds  cf  dreadful  things  would  happen  to  their 
sons  and  daughters.  Perhaps  they  might  have ;  nobody 
can  prove  that  they  wouldn't.  At  any  rate,  it  was  best  to 
be  on  the  safe  side,  so  the  book  was  never  written. 


x  PREFACE 

The  books  that  told  of  wonderful  deeds  enthralled  him 
too,  and  these  he  read  over  and  over  again.  He  could  have 
stood  a  close  examination  of  Napoleon's  battles  and  generals, 
and  would  have  told  you  the  ground  occupied  by  every 
regiment  when  the  first  shot  was  fired  at  Waterloo.  As  for 
travelling,  he  longed  to  see  the  places  where  great  events  had 
happened,  but  travelling  tired  him,  and  after  all,  when  it 
came  to  the  point,  what  was  there  in  the  world  better  than 
Scotland  ?  As  long  as  he  could  lie  by  a  burn  with  a  book 
in  his  pocket,  watching  the  fish  dancing  in  and  out,  he  did 
not  care  so  very  much  even  about  catching  them.  And  be 
lay  so  still  that  two  or  three  times  a  little  bird  came  and 
perched  on  his  rod — once  it  was  a  blue  and  green  kingfisher 
— and  he  went  home  brimming  with  pride  at  the  compliment 
the  bird  had  paid  him.  Wherever  he  stayed,  children  were 
bis  friends,  and  he  would  tell  them  stories  and  write  them 
plays  and  go  on  expeditions  with  them  to  ghost-haunted 
caves  or  historic  castles.  He  would  adapt  himself  to  them  and 
be  perfectly  satisfied  with  their  company,  and  there  is  certainly 
one  story  of  his  own  which  owes  its  ending  to  a  little  girl, 
though  in  the  Preface  he  was  careful  to  speak  of  her  as 
'  The  Lady.' 

Everything  to  do  with  the  ideas  and  customs  of  savages 
interested  him,  and  perhaps  if  some  of  you  go  away  by  and 
bye  to  wild  parts  of  the  world,  you  will  make  friends  with 
the  people  whose  stories  you  may  have  read  in  some  of  the 
Christmas  books.  But  remember  that  savages  and  seers 
of  fairyland  are  just  like  yourselves,  and  they  will  never 
tell  their  secrets  to  anyone  who  they  feel  will  laugh  at  them. 
This  man  who  loved  fairies  was  paying  a  visit  in  Ireland 
several  years  ago  and  the  girls  in  the  house  informed  him 
that  an  old  peasant  in  the  hills  was  learned  in  all  the  wisdom 
and  spells  of  the  little  folk.  He  perhaps  might  be  persuaded 
to  tell  them  a  little,  he  did  sometimes,  but  never  if  his 
own  family  were  about — '  they  only  mocked  at  him,'  he 
said.  It  was  a  chance  not  to  be  missed  ;  arrangements 
were  made  to  send  his  daughters  out  of  the  way,  and  the 


PREFACE  xi 

peasant's  fairy-tales  were  so  entertaining  that  it  was  hours 
before  the  party  came  back. 

Well,  there  does  not  seem  much  more  to  add  except  to 
place  at  the  end  of  these  pages  a  poem  which  should  have 
gone  into  the  very  first  Fairy  Book,  but  by  some  accident 
was  left  out.  It  is  only  those  who  know  how  to  shake  oil 
the  fetters  of  the  outside  world,  and  to  sever  themselves 
from  its  noise  and  scramble,  that  can  catch  the  sound  of  a 
fairy  horn  or  the  rush  of  fairy  feet.  The  little  girl  in  the 
poem  had  many  friends  in  fairyland  as  well  as  pets  among 
the  wood  folk,  and  she  has  grown  up  among  the  books  year 
by  year,  .sometimes  writing  stories  herself  of  the  birds  and 
beasts  she  has  tamed,  and  being  throughout  her  life  the 
dearest  friend  of  the  man  who  planned  the  Christmas  books 
twenty-five  years  ago. 

TO  ELSPETH  ANGELA  CAMPBELL 

Too  late  they  come,  too  late  for  you, 
These  old  friends  that  are  ever  new, 
Enchanted  in  our  volume  blue. 

For  you  ere  now  have  wandered  o'er 
A  world  of  tales  untold  of  yore, 
And  learned  the  later  fairy  lore  ! 

Nay,  as  within  her  briery  brake, 
The  Sleeping  Beauty  did  awake, 
Old  tales  may  rouse  them  for  your  sake. 

And  you  once  more  may  voyage  through 
The  forests  that  of  old  we  knew, 
The  fairy  forests  deep  in  dew, 

Where  you,  resuming  childish  things, 
Shall  listen  when  the  Blue  Bird  sings, 
And  sit  at  feasts  with  fairy  kings, 


PREFACE 


And  taste  their  wine,  ere  all  be  done, 
And  face  more  welcome  shall  be  none 
Among  the  guests  of  Oberon. 

Ay,  of  that  feast  shall  tales  be  told, 
The  marvels  of  that  world  of  gold 
To  children  young,  when  you  are  old. 

When  you  are  old !     Ah,  dateless  when, 
For  youth  shall  perish  among  men, 
And  Spring  herself  be  ancient  then. 

A.  L. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Preface  by  Mrs.  Andrew  Lang        .          .          .  vii 

The  Drowned  Buccaneer     .....  .1 

The  Perplexity  of  Zadig 23 

The  Return  of  the  Dead  Wife 27 

Young  Amazon  Snell    .         .          .         .          .  33 

The  Good  Sir  James .44 

Rip  van  Winkle .      .       49 

The  Wonderful  Basket       .          .          .          .  .63 

The  Escape  of  the  Galley-slaves        .  .      .       68 

The  Beaver  and  the  Porcupine    ....  .74 

An  Old-world  Ghost       .  • ....       79 

The  Gentleman  Highwayman      ....  .85 

The  Vision  of  the  Pope 95 

Groiving-up-like-one-who-has-a-grandmother  .         .  .97 

The  Handless  Brigade  .          .         .  .          .      .     106 

The  Son  of  the  Wolf  Chief         .          .  .110 

Blind  Jack  of  Knaresborough  .          .          .  .116 

Blind  Jack  Again 129 

The  Story  of  Djun         .         .         .         .  .      .     139 

What  Became  of  Owen  Parfitt  ?  .  .         .  .146 

Blackskin 151 

The  Pets  ofAurore  Dupin .162 

The  Trials  of  M.  DescJiartres          .  .      .      169 

Aurore  at  Play        .  .  .177 


xiv  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

How  Aurore  learned  to  Ride  .....      193 

Land-Otter  the  Indian        .  .  ,201 

The  Disinheriting  of  a  Son    .  .  .      .      207 

The  Siege  of  Rhodes .          .  .     215 

The  Princess  of  Babylon         .         .          .          .          .      .     227 

The  Adventures  of  Fire-Drill's  Son     ...  .249 

The  Strange  Story  of  Elizabeth  Canning  .         .          .      ,     257 

Mrs.  Veal's  Ghost ,  .268 

The  Chiefs  Daughter  .  ...  277 
The  Boyhood  of  a  Painter.  ,  .  .  286 
The  Adventures  of  a  Spanish  Nun 295 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

ANDREW  LANG,  Rembrandt-gravure  from  a  Photo- 
graph  ........   Frontispiece 

COLOURED  PLATES 

Father  Redcap  found  in  the  Cellar        .          .   To  face  p.       12 

The  King  and  Queen  rejoice  when  their  Pets 

return       .......  ,,  24 

How  the  Girls  found  Mountain  Dweller.          .  ,,  64 

How  the  Boy  shot  the  White  Bear    .         .      .  „  100 

Blind  Jack  plays  his  Fiddle  at  the  Assembly 

Balls ,,120 

Djun's  Magic  in  the  House  of  the  Chief   .      .  ,,  142 

Besides    the     White    Rabbit   Aurore   greatly 

admired  General  Murat  .          .  .  ,,  166 

Aurore  sets  free  the  Captive  Birds  at  the  Altar 

ofCorambe „  180 

Discovering  the.  Traitor       .          .          .          .  .,  221 

The  Princess  of  Babylon  and  the  Phoenix  .  „  238 

The  Girl  Bathed  him  every  Morning  in  the  Pool  , ,  250 

Leonardo  frightens  his  Father  with  the  Monster 

painted  on  the  Shield „  290 


xvi  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FULL-PAGE  PLATES 

Wolfert  finds  a  Stranger  at  the  Inn  .         .      .  To  face  p. 

The  Face  of  the  Drowned  Buccanee-     .  ,  „ 

The  Tlingit  Chief  finds  his  Wife  is  ill      .      . 

The  Sailors  drink  the  Health  of  Amazon  Snell 

Rip  finds  the  Dwarfs  playing  Ninepins    .  ,, 

Athenodorus  confronts  the  Spectre 

Maclean  and  Plunket  stop  Lord  Eglinton's 

Carriage  ......  ,, 

The  Highlanders  demand  the  Captain's  Horse 
for  the  Prince          .          .          .          .         .          ,, 

'  I  am  Strength,'  said  he,  *  and  I  am  going  to 

help  you '  .          .          .          .          .  ,, 

How  the  Chief's  Death  was  avenged    .          .  ,, 

Aurore  rescued  by  Deschartres  from  a  Watery 

Grave        .......  ,, 

The  Dead  Son  helps  his  Parents  .          .  ,, 

'  Here ! '  said  a  Voice    .         .         .          .  ,, 

How  the  Stranger  on  the  Unicorn  arrived  on 

the  Scene       .....  .  ,, 

Formosante's  Drug  works        .          .          .  ,, 

'  What   beautiful   birds !     I   should   like   to 

marry  one  of  them  I  *      ...  .  ,, 

Catalina  rescued  by  the,  young  Officer        .      .  ,, 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  Interference  of  the 
Bishop  himself,  it  would  have  gone  Jiardly 
with  Catalina 


THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER 

THE  story  of  Wolfert  Webber  was  said  by  Louis  Stevenson 
to  be  one  of  the  finest  treasure-seeking  stories  in  the  world  ; 
and  as  Stevenson  was  a  very  good  judge,  I  am  going  to  tell  it 
to  you. 

Wolfert's  ancestor,  Cobus  Webber,  was  one  of  the  original 
settlers  who  came  over  from  Holland  and  established  them- 
selves on  the  coast  of  what  is  now  the  State  of  New  York. 
Like  most  of  his  countrymen,  Cobus  was  a  great  gardener,  and 
devoted  himself  especially  to  cabbages,  and  it  was  agreed  on 
all  sides  that  none  so  large  or  so  sweet  had  ever  been  eaten  by 
anybody. 

Webber's  house  was  built  after  the  Dutch  pattern,  and  was 
large  and  comfortable.  Birds  built  their  nests  under  the 
eaves  and  filled  the  air  with  their  singing,  and  a  button-wood 
tree,  which  was  nothing  but  a  sapling  when  Cobus  planted  his 
first  cabbage,  had  become  a  monster  overshadowing  half  the 
garden  in  the  days  of  his  descendant  Wolfert  early  in  the 
eighteenth  century. 

The  button-wood  tree  was  not  the  only  thing  that  had 
grown  during  those  years.  The  city  known  at  first  as  '  New 
Amsterdam,'  and  later  as  '  New  York,'  had  grown  also,  and 
surrounded  the  house  of  the  Webbers.  But  if  the  family  could 
no  longer  look  from  the  windows  at  the  beautiful  woods  and 
rivers  of  the  countryside,  as  their  forefathers  had  done,  there 
was  no  reason  to  drive  a  cart  about  from  one  village  to 
another  to  see  who  wanted  cabbages,  for  now  the  housewives 
came  to  Wolfert  to  choose  their  own,  which  saved  a  great 
deal  of  trouble. 

Yet,  though  Wolfert  sold  all  the  cabbages  he  could  raise, 


2  THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER 

he  did  not  become  rich  as  fast  as  he  wished,  and  at  length  he 
began  to  wonder  if  he  was  becoming  rich  at  all.  Food  was 
dearer  than  when  he  was  a  boy,  and  other  people  besides 
himself  had  taken  to  cabbage-growing.  His  daughter  was 
nearly  a  woman,  and  would  want  a  portion  if  she  married. 
Was  there  no  way  by  which  he  could  make  the  money  that 
would  be  so  badly  needed  by  and  bye  ? 

Thinking  of  those  things,  Wolfert  walked  out  one  blustering 
Saturday  afternoon  in  the  autumn  to  a  country  inn  near  the 
sea,  much  frequented  by  the  Dutchmen  who  lived  within 
reach.  The  usual  guests  were  gathered  round  the  hearth, 
and  in  a  great  leather  armchair  sat  Ramm  Rapelye,  a  wealthy 
and  important  person,  and  the  first  white  child  born  in  the 
State.  Wolfert  drew  up  a  chair  and  stared  moodily  into  the 
fire  till  he  was  startled  by  a  remark  of  the  landlord's,  which 
seemed  to  chime  in  exactly  with  his  thoughts. 

'  This  will  be  a  rough  night  for  the  money-diggers,'  said  he. 

'  What !  are  they  at  their  works  again  ? '  asked  a  one-eyed 
English  captain. 

'  Ay,  indeed,'  answered  the  landlord ;  '  they  have  had 
great  luck  of  late.  They  say  a  great  pot  of  gold  has  been  dug 
up  just  behind  Stuyvesant's  orchard.  It  must  have  been  buried 
there  in  time  of  war  by  old  Stuyvesant,  the  governor.' 

'  Yes,'  said  Peechy  Prauw,  another  of  the  group.  '  Money 
has  been  dug  up  all  over  the  island  from  time  to  time.  The 
lucky  man  has  always  dreamt  of  the  treasure  three  times 
beforehand,  and,  what  is  more  wonderful  still,  nobody  has  ever 
found  it  who  does  not  come  from  the  old  Dutch  settlers — a 
sure  proof  that  it  was  a  Dutchman  that  buried  it.' 

That  evening  Wolfert  went  home  feeling  as  if  he  was 
walking  on  air.  The  soil  of  the  place  must  be  full  of  gold, 
and  how  strange  it  was  that  so  little  of  it  should  yet  be  up- 
turned !  He  was  so  excited  that  he  never  listened  to  a  word 
his  wife  said,  and  went  to  bed  with  his  mind  full  of  the  talk  he 
had  heard. 

His  dreams  carried  on  his  last  waking  thoughts.     He  was 


THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER  3 

digging  in  his  garden,  and  every  spadeful  of  mould  that  he 
threw  up  laid  bare  handfuls  of  golden  coins  or  sparkling 
stones.  Sometimes  he  even  lighted  on  bags  of  money  or 
heavy  treasure-chests. 

When  he  woke,  his  one  wish  was  to  know  if  his  dream 
would  be  repeated  the  next  two  nights,  for  that,  according  to 
Peechy  Prauw,  was  needful  before  you  could  expect  to  discover 
the  treasure. 

On  the  third  morning  he  jumped  up  almost  mad  with 
delight,  for  he  had  had  the  three  dreams,  and  never  doubted 
that  he  could  become  rich  merely  by  stretching  out  his  hand. 
But  even  so,  great  caution  was  necessary,  or  other  people 
might  suspect  and  rob  him  of  his  wealth  before  he  had  time  to 
place  it  in  safety.  So  as  soon  as  he  thought  his  wife  and 
daughter  were  sound  asleep,  he  got  softly  out  of  bed  and, 
taking  his  spade  and  a  pickaxe,  began  to  dig  in  the  part  of 
the  garden  furthest  from  the  road.  The  cabbages  he  left 
lying  about,  not  thinking  it  was  worth  while  for  such  a  rich 
man  to  trouble  about  them. 

Of  course,  his  wife  and  daughter  quickly  perceived  what  he 
was  doing,  but  he  would  explain  nothing,  and  grew  so  cross 
when  they  ventured  to  put  him  a  question  that  they  feared  he 
was  going  out  of  his  mind. 

Then  the  frosts  began  and  the  ground  for  many  weeks  was 
too  hard  to  dig.  All  day  long  he  sat  gazing  into  the  fire  and 
dreaming  dreams,  and  his  wife  saw  their  savings  slowly 
dwindling. 

At  last  spring  came — surely  the  winter  had  never  before 
been  so  long ! — and  Wolfert  went  gaily  back  to  his  digging ;  but 
not  so  much  as  a  silver  penny  rewarded  his  labours.  As  the 
months  passed  by  his  energy  became  feverish,  and  his  body 
thinner  and  thinner.  His  friends,  one  by  one,  ceased  to 
come  to  his  house,  and  at  length  his  only  visitor  was  a 
young  man — Dick  Waldron  by  name — whom  he  had  rejected 
as  a  husband  for  his  daughter  on  account  of  his  poverty. 

On  a  Saturday  afternoon  Wolfert  left  the  house  not 
knowing  or  caring  where  he  was  going,  when  suddenly  he 
found  himself  close  to  the  old  inn  by  the  sea-shore.  It  was  a 


4  THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER 

year  since  he  had  entered  it,  and  several  of  the  usual  customers 
were  now  present,  though  in  the  great  armchair  once  occupied 
by  Ramm  Rapelye  a  stranger  was  seated.  He  was  an  odd  and 
forbidding-looking  person,  short,  bow-legged,  and  very  strong, 
with  a  scar  across  his  face ;  while  his  clothes  were  such  a  jumble 
of  curious  garments  that  they  might  have  been  picked  out 
of  dust-heaps  at  various  times.  Wolfert  did  not  know  what 
to  make  of  him,  and  turned  to  inquire  of  Peechy  Prauw, 
who  took  him  into  a  corner  of  the  large  hall  and  explained  how 
the  man  came  there.  As  to  who  he  was,  no  one  knew  ;  but 
one  night  a  great  shouting  had  been  heard  from  the  water-side, 
and  when  the  landlord  went  down  with  his  negro  servant  he 
found  the  stranger  seated  on  a  huge  oak  sea-chest.  No  ship 
was  in  sight,  nor  boat  of  any  kind.  With  great  difficulty 
his  chest  was  moved  to  the  inn  and  put  in  the  small  room 
which  he  had  taken,  and  there  he  had  remained  ever  since, 
paying  his  bill  every  night  and  spending  all  day  at  the  window, 
watching  with  his  telescope  the  ships  that  went  by.  And  if 
anyone  had  been  there  to  notice,  they  would  have  seen  that 
it  was  the  little  vessels  and  not  the  big  ones  that  he  examined 
most  attentively. 

By  and  bye,  however,  there  was  a  change  in  the  stranger's 
habits.  He  spent  less  time  in  his  room  and  more  downstairs 
with  the  rest  of  the  company,  telling  them  wonderful  stories 
of  the  pirates  in  the  Spanish  Main.  Indeed,  so  well  did  he 
describe  the  adventures  that  his  listeners  were  not  slow  in 
guessing  that  he  had  himself  taken  a  chief  part  in  them. 

One  evening  the  talk  happened  to  turn  on  the  famous 
Captain  Kidd,  most  celebrated  of  buccaneers.  The  English- 
man was  relating,  as  he  often  did,  all  the  traditions  belonging 
to  this  hero,  and  the  stranger  who  liked  no  one  to  speak  but 
himself,  could  hardly  conceal  his  impatience.  At  length  the 
Englishman  made  some  allusion  to  a  voyage  of  Kidd's  up  the 
Hudson  river  in  order  to  bury  his  plunder  in  a  secret  place, 
and  at  these  words  the  stranger  could  contain  himself  no 
longer. 

'  Kidd  up  the  Hudson  ?  '  he  exclaimed ;  '  Kidd  was  never 
up  the  Hudson.' 


FINDS  A  5TKATN3GER  ATTME 


THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER  7 

'  I  tell  you  he  was,'  cried  the  other ;  '  and  they  say  he 
buried  a  quantity  of  treasure  in  the  little  flat  called  the  Devil's 
Hammer  that  runs  out  into  the  river.' 

'  It  is  a  lie,'  returned  the  stranger ;  '  Kidd  was  never  up  the 
Hudson  !  What  the  plague  do  you  know  of  him  and  his 
haunts  ? ' 

'  What  do  7  know  ? '  echoed  the  Englishman.  '  Why,  I  was 
in  London  at  the  time  of  his  trouble  and  saw  him  hanged.' 

'  Then,  sir,  let  me  tell  you  that  you  saw  as  pretty  a  fellow 
hanged  as  ever  trod  shoe-leather,  and  there  was  many  a  land- 
lubber looking  on  that  had  better  have  swung  in  his  stead.' 

Here  Peechy  Prauw  struck  in,  thinking  the  discussion  had 
gone  far  enough. 

'  The  gentleman  is  quite  right,'  said  he  ;  '  Kidd  never  did 
bury  money  up  the  Hudson,  nor  in  any  of  these  parts.  It  was 
Bradish  and  some  of  his  buccaneers  who  buried  money  round 
here,  though  no  one  quite  knew  where  :  Long  Island,  it  was 
said,  or  Turtle  Bay,  or  in  the  rocks  about  Hellgate.  I  re- 
member an  adventure  of  old  Sam,  the  negro  fisherman,  when 
he  was  a  young  man,  which  sounded  as  if  it  might  have  to  do 
with  the  buccaneers.  It  was  on  a  dark  night  many  years 
ago,  when  Black  Sam  was  returning  from  fishing  in  Hell- 
gate — '  but  Peechy  got  no  further,  for  at  this  point  the  stranger 
broke  in  : 

'  Hark'ee,  neighbour,'  he  cried  ;  '  you'd  better  let  the 
buccaneers  and  their  money  alone,'  and  with  that  the  man  rose 
from  his  seat  and  walked  up  to  his  room,  leaving  dead  silence 
behind  him.  The  spell  was  broken  by  a  peal  of  thunder,  and 
Peechy  was  begged  to  go  on  with  his  story,  and  this  was  it : — 

Fifty  years  before,  Black  Sam  had  a  little  hut  so  far  down 
among  the  rocks  of  the  Sound  that  it  seemed  as  if  every  high 
tide  must  wash  it  away.  He  was  a  hard-working  young  man, 
as  active  as  a  cat,  and  was  a  labourer  at  a  farm  on  the  island. 
In  the  summer  evenings,  when  his  work  was  done,  he  would 
hasten  down  to  the  shore  and  remove  his  light  boat  and  go  out 
to  fish,  and  there  was  not  a  corner  of  the  Sound  that  he  did 
not  know,  from  the  Hen  and  Chickens  to  the  Hog's  Back, 


8  THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER 

from  the  Hog's  Back  to  the  Pot,  and  from  the  Pot  to  the 
Frying  Pan. 

On  this  particular  evening  Sam  had  tried  in  turn  all  these 
fishing-grounds,  and  was  so  eager  to  fill  his  basket  that  he 
never  noticed  that  the  tide  was  ebbing  fast,  and  that  he  might 
be  cast  by  the  currents  on  to  some  of  the  sharp  rocks.  When 
at  length  he  looked  up  and  saw  where  he  was,  he  lost  no  time 
in  steering  his  skiff  to  the  point  of  Blackwell's  Island.  Here 
he  cast  anchor,  and  waited  patiently  till  the  tide  should  flow 
again  and  he  could  get  back  safely.  But  as  the  night  drew  on,  a 
great  storm  blew  up  and  the  lightning  played  over  the  shore. 
So  before  it  grew  too  dark,  Sam  quickly  changed  his  position 
and  found  complete  shelter  under  a  jutting  rock  on  Man- 
hattan Island,  where  a  tree  which  had  rooted  itself  in  a  cleft 
spread  its  thick  branches  over  the  sea. 

'  I  shan't  get  wet,  anyhow,'  thought  Sam,  who  did  not  like 
rain,  and,  making  his  boat  fast,  he  laid  himself  flat  in  the 
bottom  and  went  to  sleep. 

When  he  awoke  the  storm  had  passed,  and  all  that  re- 
mained of  it  was  a  pale  flash  of  lightning  now  and  then.  By 
the  light  of  these  flashes — for  there  was  no  moon — Sam  was 
able  to  see  how  far  the  tide  had  advanced,  and  judged  it  must 
be  near  midnight.  He  was  just  about  to  loose  the  moorings 
of  his  skiff,  as  it  was  now  safe  to  venture  out  to  sea,  when  a 
glimmer  on  the  water  made  him  pause.  What  could  it  be  ? 
Not  lightning  certainly,  but  whatever  it  was,  it  was  rapidly 
approaching  him,  and  soon  he  perceived  a  boat  gliding 
along  in  the  shadow,  with  a  lantern  at  the  prow.  Sam  instantly 
crouched  still  farther  into  the  shadow,  and  held  his  breath  as 
a  boat  passed  by,  and  pulled  up  in  a  small  cave  just  beyond. 
Then  a  man  jumped  on  shore,  and,  taking  the  lantern, 
examined  all  the  rocks. 

'  I've  got  it  !  '  he  exclaimed  to  the  rest.  '  Here  is  the  iron 
ring,'  and,  returning  to  the  boat,  he  and  the  five  others  proceeded 
to  lift  out  something  very  heavy,  and  staggered  with  it  a  little 
distance,  when  they  paused  to  take  breath.  By  the  light  of 
the  lantern  which  one  of  them  held  on  high,  Sam  perceived 
that  five  wore  red  woollen  caps,  while  the  man  who  had  found 


THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER  9 

the  iron  ring  had  on  a  three-cornered  hat.  All  were  armed  with 
pistols,  knives,  and  cutlasses,  and  some  carried,  besides,  spades 
and  pickaxes. 

Slowly  they  climbed  upwards  towards  a  clump  of  thick 
bushes,  and  Sam  silently  followed  them  and  scaled  a  rock 
which  overlooked  the  path.  At  a  sign  from  their  leader  they 
stopped,  while  he  bent  forward  with  the  lantern,  and  seemed 
to  be  searching  for  something  in  the  bushes. 

'  Bring  the  spades,'  he  said  at  last,  and  two  men  joined  him 
and  set  to  work  on  a  piece  of  open  ground. 

'  We  must  dig  deep,  so  that  we  shall  run  no  risks,'  re- 
marked one  of  the  men,  and  Sam  shivered,  for  he  made  sure 
that  he  saw  before  him  a  gang  of  murderers  about  to  bury 
their  victim.  In  his  fright  he  had  started,  and  the  branches 
of  the  tree  to  which  he  was  clinging  rustled  loudly. 

'  What 's  that  ?  '  cried  the  leader.  '  There  's  someone 
watching  us,'  and  the  lantern  was  held  up  in  the  direction  of 
the  sound  and  Sam  heard  the  cock  of  a  pistol.  Luckily  his 
black  face  did  not  show  in  the  surrounding  dark,  and  the  man 
lowered  the  lantern. 

'  It  was  only  some  beast  or  other,'  he  said,  '  and  surely 
you  are  not  going  to  fire  a  pistol  and  alarm  the  country  ?  ' 

So  the  pistol  was  uncocked  and  the  digging  resumed,  while 
the  rest  of  the  party  bore  their  burden  slowly  up  the  bank.  It 
was  not  until  they  were  out  of  sight  that  Sam  ventured  to 
move  as  much  as  an  eyelid ;  but  great  as  his  fear  was,  his 
curiosity  was  greater  still,  and  instead  of  creeping  back  to  his 
boat  and  returning  home,  he  resolved  to  remain  a  little  longer. 

The  sound  of  spades  could  now  be  heard,  and  as  the  men 
would  all  be  busy  digging  the  grave,  Sam  thought  he  might 
venture  a  little  nearer. 

Guided  by  the  noise  of  the  strokes  he  crawled  upwards,  till 
only  a  steep  rock  divided  him  from  the  diggers.  As  silently 
as  before  he  raised  himself  to  the  top,  feeling  every  ledge 
with  his  toes  before  he  put  his  feet  on  it,  lest  he  should  dislodge 
a  loose  stone  which  might  betray  him.  Then  he  peered  over 
the  edge  and  saw  that  the  men  were  immediately  below  him — 
and  far  closer  than  he  had  any  idea  of.  Indeed,  they  were  so 


10  THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER 

near  that  it  seemed  as  if  it  were  safer  to  keep  his  head  where 
it  was  than  to  withdraw  it. 

By  this  time  the  turf  was  carefully  being  replaced  over  the 
grave,  and  dry  leaves  scattered  above  it. 

'  I  defy  anybody  to  find  it  out  !  '  cried  the  leader  at  last, 
and  Sam,  forgetting  everything,  except  his  horror  of  their 
cruelty,  exclaimed  : 

'  The  murderers  !  '  but  he  did  not  know  he  had  spoken 
aloud  till  he  beheld  the  eyes  of  the  whole  gang  fixed  upon  him. 

'  Down  with  him,'  shouted  they ;  and  Sam  waited  for  no 
more,  but  the  next  instant  was  flying  for  his  life.  Now  he  was 
crashing  through  undergrowth,  now  he  was  rolling  down 
banks,  now  he  was  scaling  rocks  like  a  mountain  goat ;  but  when 
at  length  he  came  to  the  ridge  at  the  back,  where  the  river 
ran  into  the  sea,  one  of  the  pirates  was  close  behind  him. 

The  chase  appeared  to  be  over  ;  a  steep  wall  of  rock  lay 
between  Sam  and  safety,  and  in  fancy  he  already  heard  the 
whiz  of  a  bullet.  At  this  moment  he  noticed  a  tough  creeper 
climbing  up  the  rock,  and,  seizing  it  with  both  hands,  managed 
to  swing  himself  up  the  smooth  surface.  On  the  summit  he 
paused  for  an  instant  to  take  breath,  and  in  the  light  of  the 
dawn  he  was  clearly  visible  to  the  pirate  below.  This  time 
the  whiz  of  the  bullet  was  a  reality,  and  it  passed  by  his  ear. 
In  a  flash  he  saw  his  chance  of  deceiving  his  pursuers  and, 
uttering  a  loud  yell,  he  threw  himself  on  the  ground  and  kicked 
a  large  stone  lying  on  the  edge  into  the  river. 

'  We  've  done  for  him  now  I  think*  remarked  the  leader, 
as  his  companions  came  panting  up.  '  He  '11  tell  no  tales  ; 
but  we  must  go  back  and  collect  our  booty,  so  that  it  shan't 
tell  tales  either,'  and  when  their  footsteps  died  away  Sam 
clambered  down  from  the  rock  and  made  his  way  to  the  skiff, 
which  he  pushed  off  into  the  current,  for  he  did  not  dare  to 
use  the  oars  till  he  had  gone  some  distance.  In  his  fright  he 
forgot  all  about  the  whirlpools  of  Pot  and  Frying  Pan,  or  the 
dangers  of  the  group  of  rocks  right  in  the  middle  of  Hellgate, 
known  as  the  Hen  and  Chickens.  Somehow  or  other  he  got 
safely  home,  and  hid  himself  snugly  for  the  rest  of  the  day  in 
the  farmhouse  where  he  worked. 


THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER  11 

This  was  the  story  told  by  Peechy  Prauw,  which  had  been 
listened  to  in  dead  silence  by  the  men  round  the  fire. 

'  Is  that  all  ?  '   asked  one  of  them  when  Peechy  stopped. 

'  All  that  belongs  to  the  story,'  answered  he. 

'  And  did  Sam  never  find  out  what  they  buried  ?  '  inquired 
Wolfert. 

'  Not  that  I  know  of,'  replied  Peechy ;  '  he  was  kept  pretty 
hard  at  work  after  that,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  don't  think 
he  had  any  fancy  for  another  meeting  with  those  gentlemen. 
Besides,  places  look  so  different  by  daylight  that  I  doubt  if 
he  could  have  found  the  spot  where  they  had  dug  the  grave. 
And  after  all,  what  is  the  use  of  troubling  about  a  dead  body, 
if  you  cannot  hang  the  murderers  ? ' 

'  But  was  it  a  dead  body  that  was  buried  ? '   said  Wolfert. 

'  To  be  sure,'  cried  Peechy.  '  Why,  it  haunts  the  place  to 
this  day  ! ' 

'  Haunts  ! '  repeated  some  of  the  men,  drawing  their  chairs 
nearer  together. 

'  Ay.  haunts,'  said  Peechy  again.  '  Have  none  of  you 
heard  of  Father  Redcap  that  haunts  the  old  farmhouse  in  the 
woods  near  Hellgate  ?  ' 

'  Yes,'  replied  one ;  '  I've  heard  some  talk  of  that,  but  I 
always  took  it  for  an  old  wives'  tale.' 

'  Old  wives'  tale  or  not,'  answered  Peechy,  '  it  stands  not 
far  from  that  very  spot — and  a  lonely  one  it  is,  and  nobody  has 
ever  been  known  to  live  in  it.  Lights  are  seen  from  time  to 
time  about  the  wood  at  night,  and  some  say  an  old  man  in  a 
red  cap  appears  at  the  windows  and  that  he  is  the  ghost  of  the 
man  who  was  buried  in  the  bushes.  Once — so  my  mother 
told  me  when  I  was  a  child — three  soldiers  took  shelter  there, 
and  when  daylight  came  they  searched  the  house  through 
from  top  to  bottom  and  found  old  Father  Red  Cap  in  the 
cellar  outside  on  a  cider-barrel,  with  a  jug  in  one  hand  and  a 
goblet  in  the  other.  He  offered  them  a  drink,  but  just  as  one 
of  the  soldiers  held  out  his  hand  for  the  goblet,  a  flash  of 
lightning  blinded  them  all  three  for  several  minutes,  and 
when  they  could  see  again,  Red  Cap  had  vanished,  and 
nothing  but  the  cider-barrel  remained.' 


12  THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER 

'  That 's  all  nonsense  !  '  exclaimed  the  Englishman. 

'  Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  don't  agree  with  you,' 
answered  Peechy ;  '  but  everybody  knows  there  is  something 
queer  about  the  house.  Still,  as  to  that  story  of  Black  Sam's, 
I  believe  it  just  as  well  as  if  it  had  happened  to  myself.' 

In  the  silence  that  followed  this  discussion,  the  roar  of  the 
storm  might  plainly  be  heard,  and  the  thunder  grew  louder  and 
louder  every  moment.  It  was  accompanied  by  the  sound  of 
guns  coming  up  from  the  sea  and  by  a  loud  shout,  yet  it  was 
strange  that,  though  the  whole  strait  was  constantly  lit  up  by 
lightning,  not  a  creature  was  to  be  seen. 

Suddenly  another  noise  was  added  to  the  rest.  The 
window  of  the  room  above  was  thrown  up,  and  the  voice  of  the 
stranger  was  heard  answering  the  shout  from  the  sea.  After  a 
few  words  uttered  in  a  language  unknown  to  anyone  present, 
there  was  a  great  commotion  overhead,  as  if  someone  were 
dragging  heavy  furniture  about.  The  negro  servant  was  next 
called  upstairs,  and  soon  he  appeared  holding  one  handle 
of  the  great  sea-chest,  while  the  stranger  clung  to  the 
other. 

'  What ! '  cried  the  landlord,  stepping  forward  in  surprise, 
and  raising  his  lantern.  '  Are  you  going  to  sea  in  such  a 
storm  ? ' 

'  Storm  ! '  repeated  the  stranger.  '  Do  you  call  this  sputter 
of  weather  a  storm  ?  Don't  preach  about  storms  to  a  man 
whose  life  has  been  spent  amongst  whirlwinds  and  tornadoes,' 
and  as  he  spoke,  the  voice  from  the  water  rang  out,  calling 
impatiently. 

'  Put  out  the  light,'  it  said.  '  No  one  wants  lights  here,' 
and  the  stranger  turned  instantly  and  ordered  the  bystanders 
who  had  followed  from  curiosity,  back  to  the  inn. 

But  although  they  retired  to  a  little  distance, 'under  the 
shadow  of  some  rocks,  they  had  no  intention  of  going  any 
further.  By  help  of  the  lightning  they  soon  discovered  a  boat 
filled  with  men,  heading  up  and  down  under  a  rocky  point 
close  by,  and  kept  in  position  with  great  difficulty  by  a  boat- 


TATMER    REDCAP    FOUND    IN    THE   CE.U-AR. 


THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER  13 

hook,  for  just  there  the  current  was  strong.  One  of  the  crew 
reached  forward  to  seize  a  handle  of  the  stranger's  heavy  sea- 
chest  and  assist  the  owner  to  place  it  on  board.  But  his 
movement  caused  the  boat  to  drift  into  the  current,  the  chest 
slipped  from  the  gunwale  and  fell  into  the  sea,  dragging  the 
stranger  with  it,  and  in  that  pitch  darkness  and  amidst  those 
huge  waves,  no  aid  was  possible.  One  flash,  indeed,  showed 
for  an  instant  a  pair  of  outstretched  hands ;  but  when  the  next 
one  came,  nothing  was  to  be  seen  or  heard  but  the  roaring 
waters. 

The  storm  passed  at  midnight,  the  men  were  able  to  return 
to  their  homes,  casting,  as  they  went  along,  fearful  glances 
towards  the  sea.  But  the  events  of  the  evening,  and  the  tales 
he  had  listened  to,  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  mind  of 
Wolfert,  and  he  wondered  afresh  if  he  were  not  the  person 
destined  to  find  the  hidden  treasure  of  Black  Sam's  adventure. 
It  was  no  dead  body,  he  felt  sure,  that  the  pirates  had  buried 
on  the  island,  but  gold  and,  perhaps,  jewels ;  and  the  next 
morning  he  lost  no  time  in  going  over  to  the  place  and 
making  cautious  inquiries  of  the  people  who  lived  nearest 
to  it. 

Oh  !  yes,'  he  was  told,  'he  had  heard  quite  right.  Black 
Sam's  story  had  filtered  out  somehow,  and  many  were  the 
visits  which  had  been  paid  to  the  wood  by  experienced  money- 
diggers,  though  never  once  had  they  met  with  success.  And 
more,  it  had  been  remarked  that  for  ever  after,  the  diggers 
had  in  every  case  been  dogged  by  ill-luck.'  ( This,  thought 
Wolfert  to  himself,  was  because  they  had  neglected  some  of 
the  proper  ceremonies  necessary  to  be  performed  by  every 
hunter  after  treasure.)  '  Why,  the  very  last  man  who  had 
dug  there,'  went  on  the  speakers,  '  had  worked  the  whole 
night,  in  spite  of  two  handfuls  of  earth  being  thrown  in  for 
one  which  he  threw  out.  However,  he  persevered  and  managed 
to  uncover  an  iron  chest  when,  with  a  roar  that  might  have 
been  heard  across  the  Sound,  a  crowd  of  strange  figures 
sprang  out  of  the  hole  and  dealt  him  such  blows  that  he 
was  fain  to  betake  himself  to  his  boat  as  fast  as  his  legs  could 


14  THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER 

carry  him.  This  story  the  man  told  on  his  death-bed,  so  no 
doubt  it  was  true.' 

Now  every  tale  of  the  sort  only  went  to  prove  to  Wolfert 
that  Sam  had  actually  seen  the  pirates  burying  the  treasure, 
and  he  was  quite  determined  to  make  an  effort  to  obtain  it  for 
himself.  The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  get  Sam  to  serve 
as  his  guide,  for  many  years  had  passed  since  his  adventure, 
and  the  trees  and  bushes  would  have  grown  thickly  about  the 
hole. 

The  negro  was  getting  old  by  this  time,  but  he  perfectly 
recollected  all  that  had  happened,  though  his  tale  was  not 
quite  the  same  as  the  one  told  by  Peechy  Prauw.  But,  he 
was  an  active  man  yet,  and  readily  agreed  to  go  with  Wolfert 
for  a  couple  of  dollars.  As  to  being  afraid  of  ghosts  or  pirates, 
Sam  had  long  forgotten  that  he  had  feared  either. 

This  time  the  two  made  their  expedition  mostly  on  foot, 
and  after  walking  five  or  six  miles  they  reached  a  wood  which 
covered  the  eastern  part  of  the  island.  Here  they  struck  into 
a  deep  dark  lane  overgrown  with  brambles  and  overshadowed 
by  creepers,  showing  that  it  was  seldom  indeed  that  any- 
body went  that  way.  The  lane  ended  at  the  shore  of  the 
Sound,  and  just  there  were  traces  of  a  gap  surrounded  by 
trees  that  had  become  tall  since  the  days  when  Sam  last 
saw  them.  Near  by  stood  the  ruins  of  a  house — hardly  more 
than  a  heap  of  stones,  which  Wolfert  guessed  to  be  the  one  in 
Peechy  Prauw's  story. 

It  was  getting  late,  and  there  was  something  in  the  loneliness 
and  desolation  of  the  place  which  caused  even  Wolfert  to  feel 
uncomfortable.  Not  that  he  was  specially  brave,  but  his  soul 
was  so  possessed  with  the  idea  of  money-getting — or,  rather, 
money-finding — that  he  had  no  thoughts  to  spare  for  other 
matters.  He  clung  to  Sam  closely,  scrambling  along  the  edges 
of  rocks  which  overhung  the  sea,  till  they  came  to  a  small  cave. 
Then  Sam  paused  and  looked  round ;  next  he  pointed  to  a  large 
iron  ring  fastened  to  a  sort  of  table-rock. 

Wolfert's  eyes  followed  him,  and  glistened  brightly  and 
greedily.  This  was  the  ring  of  Peechy  Prauw's  tale,  and 


THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER  15 

when  the  negro  stooped  to  examine  the  rock  more  carefully, 
Wolfert  fell  on  his  knees  beside  him  and  was  able  to  make  out 
just  above  the  ring  three  little  crosses  cut  in  the  stone. 

Starting  from  this  point,  Sam  tried  to  remember  the  exact 
path  that  the  pirates  had  taken,  and  after  losing  his  way 
two  or  three  times  came  to  the  ridge  of  rock  from  which  he  had 
overlooked  the  diggers.  On  the  face  of  it  also  were  cut  three 
crosses,  but  if  you  had  not  known  where  to  look  you  would 
never  have  found  them,  for  they  were  nearly  filled  up  with 
moss.  It  was  plain  that  the  diggers  had  left  this  mark  for 
their  guidance,  but  what  was  not  so  plain  was  where  they  had 
buried  their  treasure,  for  fifty  years  change  many  things. 
Sam  fixed  first  on  one  spot  and  then  on  another — it  must  have 
been  under  that  mulberry  tree,  he  declared.  Or  stay,  was  it  not 
beside  that  big  white  stone,  or  beneath  that  small  green  knoll  ? 
At  length  Wolfert  saw  that  Sam  could  be  certain  of  nothing, 
and  as  he  had  brought  neither  spade  nor  pickaxe  nor  lantern 
with  him,  decided  that  he  had  better  content  himself 
with  taking  notes  of  the  place,  and  return  to  dig  some 
other  day. 

On  their  way  back  Wolfert's  fancy  began  to  play  him 
strange  tricks,  as  it  has  a  way  of  doing  when  people  are  excited 
or  very  tired.  He  seemed  to  behold  pirates  hanging  from 
every  tree,  and  the  fall  of  a  nut  or  the  rustling  of  a  leaf  caused 
him  to  jump  and  to  feel  for  his  companion.  As  they  ap- 
proached the  garden  of  the  ruined  house,  they  saw  a  figure 
advancing  along  a  mossy  path  with  a  heavy  "burden  on  his 
shoulders.  On  his  head  was  a  red  cap,  and  he  passed  on 
slowly  until  he  stopped  at  the  door  of  what  looked  to  be  a 
burying- vault.  Then  he  turned  and  shook  his  fisj  at  them, 
and  as  Wolfert  saw  his  face  he  recognised  with  horror  the 
drowned  buccaneer. 

Wolfert  did  not  need  to  look  twice,  but  rushed  away  helter-  ' 
skelter  with  Sam  behind  him,  running  nearly  as  fast  as  he  had 
done  fifty  years  before.     Every  stone  they  stumbled  over  they 
imagined  to  be  the  pirate's  foot  stretched  out  to  trip  them  up  • 
every  bramble  that  caught  them  to  be  his  hands  grasping  at 


16  THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER 


their  clothes.  They  only  breathed  fully  when  Wolfert's  home 
was  in  sight. 

It  was  several  days  before  he  recovered  from  the  shock  and 
the  run  combined,  and  all  that  time  he  behaved  in  such  a 
strange  manner  that  his  wife  and  daughter  were  convinced 
that  he  was  rapidly  going  mad.  He  would  sit  for  hours 
together  staring  before  him,  and  if  a  question  was  put  to 
him,  seldom  gave  a  sensible  answer.  He  scarcely  ate  any  food, 
and  if  he  did  fall  asleep,  he  talked  about  money-bags,  and  flung 
the  blankets  right  and  left,  imagining  that  he  was  digging 
the  earth  out  of  the  hole. 

In  this  extremity  the  poor  woman  felt  that  the  matter  was 
beyond  her  skill,  and  she  hastened  to  consult  a  German  doctor 
famous  for  his  learning.  But  the  result  was  very  different 
from  what  she  had  expected.  At  the  doctor's  first  interview 
with  Wolfert  he  questioned  the  patient  closely  as  to  all  that  he 
had  seen  and  heard  of  the  treasure,  and  at  length  told  him 
that  if  he  was  ever  to  find  it,  it  was  necessary  to  proceed  with 
the  utmost  caution  and  to  observe  certain  ceremonies. 

'  You  can  never  dig  for  money  except  at  night,'  ended 
the  doctor,  '  and  then  you  must  have  the  help  of  a  divining 
rod.  As  I  have  some  experience  in  these  matters,  you  had 
better  let  me  join  in  the  search.  If  you  agree  to  this,  you  can 
leave  all  preparations  to  me.  In  three  days  everything  will 
be  ready.' 

Wolfert  was  delighted  at  this  offer.  Now,  he  thought,  he 
was  sure  of  success,  and  though  he  neglected  his  work  as  much 
as  ever,  he  was  so  much  brighter  and  happier  than  before 
that  his  wife  congratulated  herself  on  her  wisdom  in  sending 
him  to  the  doctor. 

When  the  appointed  night  arrived  Wolfert  bade  his  women- 
kind  go  to  bed  and  not  to  feel  frightened  if  he  should  be  out 
till  daylight ;  and  dressed  in  his  wife's  long,  red  cloak,  with 
his  wide  felt  hat  tied  down  by  his  daughter's  handkerchief,  he 
set  gaily  out  on  his  adventure. 

The  doctor  was  awaiting  him,  with  a  thick  book  studded 
with  clasps  under  his  arm,  a  basket  of  dried  herbs  and  drugs 


THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER  17 

in  one  hand,  and  the  divining  rod  in  the  other.  It  was  barely 
ten  o'clock,  but  the  whole  village  was  fast  asleep,  and 
nothing  was  to  be  heard  save  the  sound  of  their  own  footsteps. 
Yet,  now  and  then  it  seemed  to  Wolfert  that  a  third  step 
mingled  with  theirs,  and  as  he  glanced  round  he  fancied  he 
saw  a  figure  moving  after  them,  keeping  always  in  the  shadow 
but  stopping  when  they  stopped,  and  proceeding  when  they 
proceeded. 

Sam  was  ready  for  them  and  had  put  the  spades  and  pick- 
axes in  the  bottom  of  his  boat,  together  with  a  dark  lantern. 
The  tide  was  in  their  favour  running  fast  up  the  Sound,  so  that 
oars  were  hardly  needed.  Very  shortly  they  were  passing  the 
little  inn  where  these  strange  adventures  had  begun  ;  it  was 
dark  and  still  now,  yet  Wolfert  thought  he  saw  a  boat  lurking 
in  the  very  place  where  he  had  beheld  it  on  the  night  of  the 
storm,  but  the  shadow  of  the  rocks  lay  so  far  over  the  water 
that  he  could  be  sure  of  nothing.  Still,  in  a  few  minutes  he 
was  distinctly  aware  of  the  noise  of  oars,  apparently  coming 
from  a  long  way  off,  and  though  both  his  companions  were 
silent,  it  was  evident  from  the  stronger  strokes  instantly  pulled 
by  Sam  that  he  had  heard  it  also.  In  half  an  hour  the  negro 
shot  his  skiff  into  the  little  cave,  and  made  it  fast  to  the  iron 
ring. 

Even  with  the  help  of  the  notes  he  had  taken,  it  was  some 
time  before  Wolfert  managed  to  hit  on  the  exact  spot  where 
the  treasure  had  been  buried.  After  losing  their  way  twice 
or  thrice  they  reached  the  ledge  of  rock  with  the  crosses  on  it, 
and  at  a  sign  from  Wolfert  the  doctor  produced  the  divining 
rod.  This  was  a  forked  twig,  and  each  of  the  forks  was 
grasped  in  his  hand,  while  the  stem  pointed  straight  upwards. 
The  doctor  held  it  at  a  certain  distance  above  the  ground,  and 
frequently  changed  his  position,  and  Wolfert  kept  the  light 
of  the  lantern  full  on  the  twig,  but  it  never  stirred.  Their 
hopes  and  their  patience  were  nearly  exhausted  when  the 
rod  began  slowly  to  turn,  and  went  on  turning  until  the  stem 
pointed  straight  to  the  earth. 

'  The  treasure  lies  here,'  said  the  doctor. 

'  Shall  I  dig  ? '   asked  Sam. 


18  THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER 

*  No  !  no  !  not  yet.  And  do  not  speak,  whatever  you  see 
me  do,'  and  the  doctor  drew  a  circle  round  them  and  made  a 
fire  of  dry  branches  and  dead  leaves.  On  this  he  threw  the 
herbs  and  drugs  he  had  brought  with  him,  which  created  a 
thick  smoke,  and  finished  by  reading  some  sentences  out  of  the 
clasped  book.  His  companions,  nearly  choked  and  blinded 
by  the  dense  vapour,  understood  nothing  of  what  was  going  on, 
and  it  is  quite  possible  that  there  was  not  anything  to  under- 
stand, but  the  doctor  thought  that  these  ceremonies  were 
necessary  to  the  right  beginning  of  any  important  adventure. 
At  last  he  shut  the  book. 

'  You  can  dig  now,'  he  said  to  Sam. 

So  the  negro  struck  his  pickaxe  into  the  soil,  which  gave 
Bigns  of  not  having  been  disturbed  for  many  a  long  day.  He 
very  soon  came  to  a  bed  of  sand  and  gravel,  and  had  just 
thrust  his  spade  into  it,  when  a  cry  came  from  Wolfert. 

'  What  is  that  ?  '  he  whispered.  '  I  fancied  I  heard  a 
trampling  among  the  dry  leaves  and  a  rustling  through  the 
bushes.'  Sam  paused,  and  for  a  moment  there  was  no  sound 
to  break  the  stillness.  Then  a  bat  flitted  by,  and  a  bird  flew 
above  the  flames  of  the  fire. 

Sam  continued  to  dig,  till  at  length  his  spade  struck  upon 
something  that  gave  out  a  hollow  ring.     He  struck  a  second 
time,  and  turned  to  his  companions. 
'  It  is  a  chest,'  he  cried. 

'  And  full  of  gold,  I'll  warrant,'  exclaimed  Wolfert,  raising 
his  eyes  to  the  doctor,  who  stood  behind  him.  But  beyond  the 
doctor  who  was  that  ?  By  the  dying  light  of  the  lantern, 
peering  over  the  rock,  was  the  face  of  the  drowned  buccaneer. 
With  a  shriek  of  terror  he  let  fall  the  lantern,  which  fizzled 
out.  His  companions  looked  up,  and,  seeing  what  he  saw, 
were  seized  with  a  fear  as  great  as  his.  The  negro  leaped  out  of 
the  hole,  the  doctor  dropped  his  book  and  basket,  and  they 
all  fled  in  different  directions,  thinking  that  a  legion  of  hob- 
goblins were  after  them.  Wolfert  made  a  dash  for  the  water- 
side and  the  boat,  but,  swiftly  as  he  ran,  someone  behind  him 
ran  more  swiftly  still.  He  gave  himself  up  for  lost,  when  a  hand 
clutched  at  his  cloak  ;  then  suddenly  a  third  person  seemed  to 


c2 


THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER  21 

gain  on  them,  and  to  attack  his  pursuer.  Pistol  shots  were 
fired  in  the  fierceness  of  the  fight,  the  combatants  fell,  and 
rolled  on  the  ground  together. 

Wolfert  would  thankfully  have  disappeared  during  the 
struggle,  but  a  precipice  lay  at  his  feet,  and  in  the  pitch  dark- 
ness he  knew  not  where  ho  could  turn  in  safety.  So  he 
crouched  low  under  a  clump  of  bushes  and  waited. 

Now  the  two  men  were  standing  again  and  had  each  other 
by  the  waist,  straining  and  dragging  and  pulling  towards  the 
brink  of  the  precipice.  This  much  Wolfert  could  guess  from 
the  panting  sounds  that  reached  him,  and  at  last  a  gasp  of 
relief  smote  upon  his  ears  followed  instantaneously  by  a  shriek 
and  then  a  plunge. 

One  of  them  had  gone,  but  what  about  the  other  ?  Was  he 
friend  or  foe  ?  The  question  was  soon  answered,  for  climb- 
ing over  a  group  of  rocks  which  rose  against  the  sky  was  the 
buccaneer.  Yes  ;  he  was  sure  of  it. 

All  his  terrors  revived  at  the  sight,  and  he  had  much  ado  to 
keep  his  teeth  from  chattering.  Yet,  even  if  his  legs  would 
carry  him,  where  could  he  go  ?  A  precipice  was  on  one 
side  of  him  and  a  murderer  on  the  other.  But  as  the  pirate 
drew  a  few  steps  nearer,  Wolfert's  fears  were  lashed  into 
frenzy,  and  he  cast  himself  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  his 
feet  casting  about  for  a  ledge  to  rest  on.  Then  his  cloak  got 
caught  in  a -thorn  tree  and  he  felt  himself  hanging  in  the  air, 
half-choking.  Luckily  the  string  broke  and  he  dropped  down, 
rolling  from  bank  to  bank  till  he  lost  consciousness. 

It  was  long  before  he  came  to  himself.  When  he  did,  he 
was  lying  at  the  bottom  of  a  boat,  with  the  morning  sun 
shining  upon  him. 

'Lie  still,'  said  a  voice,  and  with  a  leap  of  the  heart 
he  knew  it  to  be  that  of  Dick  Waldron,  his  daughter's 
sweetheart. 

Dame  Webber,  not  trusting  her  husband  in  the  strange 
condition  he  had  been  in  for  months,  had  begged  the  young 
man  to  follow  him,  and  though  Dick  had  started  too  late  to 
overtake  the  party,  he  had  arrived  in  time  to  save  Wolfert 
from  his  enemy. 


22  THE  DROWNED  BUCCANEER 

The  story  of  the  midnight  adventure  soon  spread  through 
the  town,  and  many  were  the  citizens  who  went  out  to  hunt 
for  the  treasure.  Nothing,  however,  was  found  by  any  of  the 
seekers ;  and  whether  any  treasure  had  been  buried  there  at  all, 
no  one  could  tell,  any  more  than  they  knew  who  the  strange 
buccaneer  was,  and  if  he  had  been  drowned  or  not.  Only  one 
thing  was  curious  about  the  whole  affair,  and  that  was  the 
presence  in  the  Sound  at  that  very  time  of  a  brig  looking  like 
a  privateer  which,  after  hanging  about  for  several  days,  was 
seen  standing  out  to  sea  the  morning  after  the  search  of  the 
money-diggers. 

Yet,  though  Wolfert  missed  one  fortune,  he  found  another, 
for  the  citizens  of  Manhattan  desired  to  cut  a  street  right 
through  his  garden,  and  offered  to  buy  the  ground  for  a  large 
sum.  So  he  grew  to  be  a  rich  man  after  all,  and  might  be  seen 
any  day  driving  about  his  native  town  in  a  large  yellow 
carriage  drawn  by  two  big  black  Flanders  mares. 


THE  PERPLEXITY  OF  ZADIG 

ON  the  banks  of  the  river  Euphrates  there  once  lived  a  man 
called  Zadig,  who  spent  all  his  days  watching  the  animals  he 
saw  about  him  and  in  learning  their  ways,  and  in  studying 
the  plants  that  grew  near  his  hut.  And  the  more  he  knew  of 
them,  the  more  he  was  struck  with  the  differences  he  dis- 
covered even  in  the  beasts  or  flowers  which  he  thought 
when  he  first  saw  them  were  exactly  alike. 

One  morning  as  he  was  walking  through  a  little  wood  there 
came  running  towards  him  an  officer  of  the  queen's  household, 
followed  by  several  of  her  attendants.  Zadig  noticed  that  one 
and  all  seemed  in  the  greatest  anxiety  and  glanced  from  side  to 
side  with  wild  eyes  as  if  they  had  lost  something  they  held 
to  be  very  precious,  and  hoped  against  hope  that  it  might  be 
lurking  in  some  quite  impossible  place. 

On  catching  sight  of  Zadig,  the  first  of  the  band  stopped 
suddenly. 

'  Young  man,'  he  said,  panting  for  breath, '  have  you  seen 
the  queen's  pet  dog  ?  ' 

'  It  is  a  tiny  spaniel,  is  it  not  ?  '  answered  Zadig,  '  which 
limps  on  the  left  fore-paw,  and  has  very  long  ears  ?  ' 

'  Ah  then,  you  have  seen  it !  '  exclaimed  the  steward 
joyfully,  thinking  that  his  search  was  at  an  end  and  his  head 
was  safe,  for  he  knew  of  many  men  who  had  lost  theirs  for 
less  reason. 

'No,'  replied  Zadig,  '  I  have  never  seen  it.  Indeed,  I  did 
not  so  much  as  know  that  the  queen  had  a  dog.' 

At  these  words  the  faces  of  the  whole  band  fell,  and  with 
sighs   of   disappointment  they  hurried  on  twice  as  fast  as 
before,  to  make  up  for  lost  time. 
23 


24  THE  PERPLEXITY  OF  ZADIG 

Strange  to  say,  it  had  happened  that  the  finest  horse  in  the  ( 
king's  stable  had  broken  away  from  its  groom  and  galloped 
off  no  one  knew  where,  over  the  boundless  plains  of  Babylon. 
The  chief  huntsman  and  all  the  other  officials  pursued  it 
with  the  same  eagerness  that  the  officers  of  the  household 
had  displayed  in  running  after  the  queen's  dog  and,  like  them, 
met  with  Zadig  who  was  lying  on  the  ground  watching  the 
movements  of  some  ants. 

'  Has  the  king's  favourite  horse  passed  by  here  ? '  inquired 
the  great  huntsman,  drawing  rein. 

'  You  mean  a  wonderful  galloper  fifteen  hands  high, 
shod  with  very  small  shoes,  and  with  a  tail  three  feet  and  a  half 
long  ?  The  ornaments  of  his  bit  are  of  gold  and  he  is  shod 
with  silver  ?  ' 

'  Yes,  yes,  that  is  the  runaway,'  cried  the  chief  huntsman  ; 
'  which  way  did  he  go  ?  ' 

'  The  horse  ?  But  I  have  not  seen  him,'  answered  Zadig, 
'  and  I  never  even  heard  of  him  before.' 

Now  Zadig  had  described  both  the  horse  and  the  dog  so 
exactly  that  both  the  steward  and  the  chief  huntsman  did  not 
doubt  for  a  moment  that  they  had  been  stolen  by  him. 

The  chief  huntsman  said  no  more,  but  ordered  his  men  to 
seize  the  thief  and  to  bring  him  before  the  supreme  court,  where 
he  was  condemned  to  be  flogged  and  to  pass  the  rest  of  his  life 
in  exile.  Scarcely,  however,  had  the  sentence  been  passed 
than  the  horse  and  dog  were  discovered  and  brought  back  to 
their  master  and  mistress,  who  welcomed  them  with  trans- 
ports of  delight.  But  as  no  one  would  have  respected  the 
judges  any  longer  if  they  had  once  admitted  that  they  had 
been  altogether  mistaken,  they  informed  Zadig  that,  although 
he  was  to  be  spared  the  flogging  and  would  not  be  banished 
from  the  country,  he  must  pay  four  hundred  ounces  of  gold 
for  having  declared  he  had  not  seen  what  he  plainly  had  seen. 

With  some  difficulty  Zadig  raised  the  money,  and  when 
he  had  paid  it  into  court,  he  asked  permission  to  say  a  few 
words  of  explanation. 

'  Moons  of  justice  and  mirrors  of  truth,'  he  began.      '  I 


THE  PERPLEXITY  OF  ZADIG  25 

swear  to  you  by  the  powers  of  earth  and  of  air  that  never  have 
I  beheld  the  dog  of  the  queen  nor  the  horse  of  the  king.  And 
if  this  august  assembly  will  deign  to  listen  to  me  for  a  moment, 
I  will  inform  them  exactly  what  happened.  Before  I  met  with 
the  officers  of  the  queen's  household  I  had  noticed  on  the  sand 
the  marks  of  an  animal's  paws,  which  I  instantly  recognised 
to  be  those  of  a  small  dog  ;  and  as  the  marks  were  invariably 
fainter  -on  one  side  than  on  the  three  others,  it  was  easy  to 
guess  that  the  dog  limped  on  one  paw.  Besides  this,  the  sand 
on  each  side  of  the  front  paw-marks  was  ruffled  on  the  surface, 
showing  that  the  ears  were  very  long  and  touched  the  ground. 

'  As  to  the  horse,  I  had  perceived  along  the  road  the  traces  of 
shoes,  always  at  equal  distances,  which  proved  to  me  that  the 
animal  was  a  perfect  galloper.  I  then  detected  on  closer 
examination,  that  though  the  road  was  only  seven  feet  wide, 
the  dust  on  the  trees  both  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left 
had  been  swept  to  a  height  of  three  and  a  half  feet,  and  from 
that  I  concluded  the  horse's  tail,  which  had  switched  off  the 
dust,  must  be  three  and  a  half  feet  long.  Next,  five  feet  from 
the  ground  I  noticed  that  twig  and  leaves  had  been  torn  off 
the  trees,  so  evidently  he  was  fifteen  hands  high.  As  to  the 
ornaments  on  his  bit,  he  had  scraped  one  of  them  against  a 
rock  on  turning  a  corner  too  sharply,  and  some  traces  of 
gold  remained  on  it,  while  the  light  marks  left  on  the  soil 
showed  that  his  shoes  were  not  of  iron  but  of  a  less  heavy 
metal,  which  could  only  be  silver.' 

Great  was  the  amazement  of  the  judges  and  of  everybody 
else  at  the  perception  and  reasoning  of  Zadig.  At  court,  no 
one  talked  of  anything  else ;  and  though  many  of  the  wise  men 
declared  that  Zadig  should  be  burnt  as  a  wizard,  the  king 
commanded  that  the  four  hundred  ounces  of  gold,  which  he 
had  paid  as  a  fine,  should  be  restored  to  him.  In  obedience  to 
this  order,  the  clerk  of  the  court  and  the  ushers  came  in  state 
to  Zadig's  hut,  bringing  with  them  the  four  hundred  ounces ; 
but,  when  they  arrived,  they  told  Zadig  that  three  hundred 
and  ninety-eight  of  them  were  due  for  law  expenses,  so  he  was 
not  much  better  off  than  before. 

Zadig  said  nothing,  but  let  them  keep  the  money.    He  had 


26  THE  PERPLEXITY  OF  ZADIG 

learned  how  dangerous  it  is  to  be  wiser  than  your  neighbours, 
and  resolved  never  again  to  give  any  information  to  anybody, 
or  to  say  what  he  had  seen. 

He  had  very  speedily  a  chance  of  putting  this  determina- 
tion into  practice.  A  prisoner  of  state  escaped  from  the  great 
gaol  of  Babylon,  and  in  his  flight  happened  to  pass  beneath 
the  window  of  Zadig's  hut.  Not  long  after,  the  warders, 
of  the  gaol  discovered  which  way  he  had  gone,  and  cross - 
questioned  Zadig  closely.  Zadig,  warned  by  experience, 
kept  silence ;  but  notwithstanding,  it  was  proved — or 
at  least,  they  said  so — that  Zadig  had  been  looking  out  of 
the  window  when  the  man  went  by,  and  for  this  crime  he 
was  sentenced  by  the  judges  to  pay  five  hundred  ounces 
of  gold. 

'  Good  gracious  !  '  he  murmured  to  himself  as,  according 
to  the  custom  of  Babylon,  he  thanked  the  court  for  its  indul- 
gence. '  What  is  one  to  do  ?  It  is  dangerous  to  stand  at  your 
own  window,  or  to  be  in  a  wood  which  the  king's  horse  and 
the  queen's  dog  have  passed  through.  How  hard  it  is  to  live 
happily  in  this  life  !  ' 


THE   RETURN   OF   THE   DEAD    WIFE 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  lived  in  Alaska  a  chief  of  the  Tlingit 
tribe  who  had  one  son.  When  the  boy  grew  to  be  a  man,  he 
saw  a  girl  who  seemed  to  him  prettier  and  cleverer  than  any 
other  girl  of  the  tribe,  and  his  heart  went  out  to  her,  and  he 
told  his  father.  Then  the  chief  spoke  to  the  father  and  the 
mother  of  the  girl,  and  they  agreed  to  give  her  to  the  young 
man  for  a  wife.  So  the  two  were  married,  and  for  a  few 
months  all  went  well  with  them  and  they  were  very  happy. 

But  one  day  the  husband  came  home  from  hunting  and 
found  his  wife  sitting  crouched  over  the  fire — her  eyes  dull  and 
her  head  heavy. 

'  You  are  ill,'  he  said, '  I  will  go  for  the  shaman,'  but  the  girl 
answered  : 

'  Xo,  not  now.  I  will  sleep,  and  in  the  morning  the  pains 
will  have  gone  from  me.' 

But  in  the  morning  she  was  dead,  and  the  young  man 
grieved  bitterly  and  would  eat  nothing,  and  he  lay  awake 
all  that  night  thinking  of  his  wife,  and  the  next  night  also. 

'  Perhaps  if  I  went  out  into  the  forest  and  walked  till  I  was 
tired,  I  might  sleep  and  forget  my  pain,'  thought  he.  But,  after 
all,  he  could  not  bear  to  leave  the  house  while  his  dead  wife  was 
in  it,  so  he  waited  till  her  body  was  taken  away  that  evening 
for  burial.  Then,  very  early  next  morning,  he  put  on  his 
leggings  and  set  off  into  the  forest  and  walked  through  that 
day  and  the  following  night.  Sunrise  on  the  second  morning 
found  him  in  a  wide  valley  covered  with  thick  trees.  Before 
him  stretched  a  plain  which  had  once  been  full  of  water,  but 
it  was  now  dried  up. 

He  paused  for  a  moment  and  looked  about  him,  and  as  he 
27 


28  THE  RETURN  OF  THE  DEAD  WIFE 

looked  he  seemed  to  hear  voices  speaking  a  long  way  off.  But 
he  could  see  nobody,  and  walked  on  again  till  he  beheld  a 
light  shining  through  the  branches  of  the  trees  and  noticed 
a  flat  stone  on  the  edge  of  a  lake.  Here  the  road  stopped  ;  for 
it  was  the  death  road  along  which  he  had  come,  though  he  did 
not  know  it. 

The  lake  was  narrow,  and  on  the  other  side  were  houses  and 
people  going  in  and  out  of  them. 

'  Come  over  and  fetch  me,'  he  shouted,  but  nobody  heard 
him,  though  he  cried  till  he  was  hoarse. 

'  It  is  very  odd  that  nobody  hears  me,'  whispered  the  youth 
after  he  had  shouted  for  some  time  longer  ;  and  at  that  minute 
a  person  standing  at  the  door  of  one  of  the  houses  across  the 
lake  cried  out : 

'  Someone  is  shouting ' ;  for  they  could  hear  him  when  he 
whispered,  but  not  when  he  made  a  great  noise. 

'  It  is  somebody  who  has  come  from  dreamland,'  continued 
the  voice.  '  Let  a  canoe  go  and  bring  him  over.'  So  a  canoe 
shot  out  from  the  shore,  and  the  young  man  got  into  it  and 
was  paddled  across,  and  as  soon  as  he  stepped  out  he  saw  his 
dead  wife. 

Joy  rushed  into  his  heart  at  the  sight  of  her ;  her  eyes 
were  red  as  though  she  had  been  crying ;  and  he  held  out  his 
hands.  As  he  did  so  the  people  in  the  house  said  to  him  : 

'  You  must  have  come  from  far ;  sit  down,  and  we  will 
give  you  food,'  and  they  spread  food  before  him,  at  which 
he  felt  glad,  for  he  was  hungry. 

'  Don't  eat  that,'  whispered  his  wife,  '  if  you  do,  you  will 
never  get  back  again  ' ;  and  he  listened  to  her  and  did  not  eat  it. 

Then  his  wife  said  again  : 

'  It  is  not  good  for  you  to  stay  here.  Let  us  depart  at  once,' 
and  they  hastened  to  the  edge  of  the  water  and  got  into  the 
canoe,  which  is  called  the  Ghost's  Canoe,  and  is  the  only  one 
on  the  lake.  They  were  soon  across  and  they  landed  at  the 
flat  stone  where  the  young  man  had  stood  when  he  was 
shouting,  and  the  name  of  that  stone  is  the  Ghost's  Rock. 
Down  they  went  along  the  road  that  he  had  come,  and  on  the 
second  night  they  reached  tbe  youth's  house. 


THE  TLDJGIT  CHIEF  FINDS  HIS  WIFE  IS  ILL. 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  DEAD  WIFE     31 

'  Stay  here,'  he  said,  '  and  I  will  go  in  and  tell  my  father.' 
So  he  entered  and  said  to  his  father  : 

'  I  have  brought  my  wife  back.' 

'  Well,  why  don't  you  bring  her  in  ?  '  asked  the  chief, 
and  he  took  a  fur  robe  and  laid  it  on  top  of  a  mat  for  her  to 
sit  on.  After  that  the  young  man  led  his  wife  into  the  house, 
but  the  people  inside  could  not  see  her  enter,  but  only  her 
husband  ;  yet  when  he  came  quite  close,  they  noticed  a  deep 
shadow  behind  him.  The  young  man  bade  his  wife  sit  down 
on  the  mat  they  had  prepared  for  her,  and  a  robe  of  marten 
skins  was  placed  over  her  shoulders,  and  it  hung  upon  her  as 
if  she  had  been  a  real  woman  and  not  a  ghost.  Then  they  put 
food  before  her,  and,  as  she  ate,  they  beheld  her  arms,  and  the 
spoon  moving  up  and  down.  But  the  shadow  of  her  hands 
they  did  not  see,  and  it  seemed  strange  to  them. 

Now  from  henceforth  the  young  man  and  his  wife  always 
went  everywhere  together ;  whether  he  was  hunting  or 
fishing,  the  shadow  always  followed  him,  and  he  begged  to 
have  his  bed  made  where  they  had  first  seated  themselves, 
instead  of  in  the  room  where  he  had  slept  before.  And  this 
the  people  in  the  house  did  gladly,  for  joy  at  having  him  back. 

In  the  day,  if  they  happened  not  to  be  away  hunting  or 
fishing,  the  wife  was  so  quiet  that  no  one  would  have  guessed 
she  was  there,  but  during  the  night  she  would  play  games  with 
her  husband  and  talk  to  him,  so  that  the  others  could  hear 
her  voice.  At  her  first  coming  the  chief  felt  silent  and 
awkward,  but  after  a  while  he  grew  accustomed  to  her  and 
would  pretend  to  be  angry  and  called  out :  '  You  had  better 
get  up  now,  after  keeping  everyone  awake  all  night  with  your 
games,'  and  they  could  hear  the  shadow  laugh  in  answer, 
and  knew  it  was  the  laugh  of  the  dead  woman. 

Thus  things  went  on  for  some  time,  and  they  might  have 
gone  on  longer,  had  not  a  cousin  of  the  dead  girl's  who  had 
wanted  to  marry  her  before  she  married  the  chief's  son  become 
jealous  when  he  found  that  her  husband  had  brought  her  back 
from  across  the  lake.  And  he  spied  upon  her,  and  listened  to 
her  when  she  was  talking,  hoping  for  a  chance  to  work  her 


32     THE  RETURN  OF  THE  DEAD  WIFE 

some  ill.     At  last  the  chance  came,  as  it  commonly  does,  and 
it  was  in  this  wise  : 

Night  after  night  the  jealous  man  had  hidden  himself  at 
the  head  of  the  bed,  and  had  stolen  away  unperceived  in  the 
morning  without  having  heard  anything  to  help  his  wicked 
plans.  He  was  beginning  to  think  he  must  try  something  else 
when  one  evening  the  girl  suddenly  said  to  her  husband  that 
she  was  tired  of  being  a  shadow,  and  was  going  to  show  herself 
in  the  body  that  she  used  to  have,  and  meant  to  keep  it  always. 
The  husband  was  glad  in  his  soul  at  her  words,  and  then  pro- 
posed that  they  should  get  up  and  play  a  game  as  usual ;  and, 
while  they  were  playing,  the  man  behind  the  curtains  peeped 
through.  As  he  did  so,  a  noise  as  of  a  rattling  of  bones  rang 
through  the  house,  and  when  the  people  came  running,  they 
found  the  husband  dead  and  the  shadow  gone,  for  the  ghosts 
of  both  had  sped  back  to  Ghostland. 

Tlingit  Myths. 


YOUNG  AMAZON  SNELL 

WHEN  George  I.  was  king,  there  lived  in  Worcester  a  man 
named  Snell,  who  carried  on  business  as  a  hosier  and  dyer. 
He  worked  hard,  as  indeed  he  had  much  need  to  do — having 
three  sons  and  six  daughters  to  provide  for.  The  boys  were 
sent  to  some  kind  of  school,  but  in  those  days  tradesmen  did 
not  trouble  themselves  about  educating  their  girls,  and  Snell 
thought  it  quite  enough  for  them  to  be  able  to  read  and  to 
count  upon  their  fingers.  If  they  wanted  more  learning  they 
must  pick  it  up  for  themselves. 

Now  although  Snell  himself  was  a  peaceable,  stay-at-home 
man,  his  father  had  been  a  soldier,  and  had  earned  fame  and 
a  commission  as  captain-lieutenant,  by  shooting  the  Governor 
of  Dunkirk  in  the  reign  of  King  William.  Many  tales  did  the 
Snell  children  hear  in  the  winter  evenings  of  their  grand- 
father's brave  deeds  when  he  fought  at  Blenheim  with  the 
Welsh  Fusiliers,  and  a  thrill  of  excitement  never  failed  to  run 
through  them  as  they  listened  to  the  story  of  the  battle  of 
Malplaquet,  where  the  hero  received  the  wound  that  killed  him. 

'  Twenty-two  battles  !  '  they  whispered  proudly  yet  with 
awe-struck  voices  ;  '  did  ever  any  man  before  fight  in  so  many 
as  that  ?  '  and,  though  the  eldest  boy  said  less  than  any,  one 
morning  his  bed  was  empty,  and  by  and  bye  his  mother  got 
a  message  to  tell  her  that  Sam  had  enlisted,  and  was  to  sail 
for  Flanders  with  the  army  commanded  by  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland. 

Poor  Sam's  career  was  not  a  long  one.  He  was  shot 
through  the  lungs  at  the  battle  of  Fontenoy,  and  died  in  a  few 
.lours. 

The  old  grandfather's  love  of  a  fight  was  in  all  these  young 
33  D 


34  YOUNG  AMAZON  SNELL 

Snells,  and  one  by  one  the  boys  followed  Sam's  example,  and 
the  girls  married  soldiers  or  sailors.  Hannah,  the  youngest, 
brought  up  from  her  babyhood  on  talk  of  wars  and  rumours  of 
wars,  thought  of  nothing  else. 

'  She  would  be  a  soldier  too  when  she  was  big  enough,' 
she  told  her  father  and  mother  twenty  times  a  day,  and  her 
play-fellows  were  so  infected  by  her  zeal,  that  they  allowed 
themselves  to  be  formed  into  a  company,  of  which  Hannah, 
needless  to  say,  was  the  commander-in-chief,  and  meekly 
obeyed  her  orders. 

In  their  free  hours,  she  would  drill  them  as  her  brothers  had 
drilled  her,  and  now  and  then  when  she  decided  that  they 
knew  enough  not  to  disgrace  her,  she  would  march  them 
through  the  streets  of  Worcester,  under  the  admiring  gaze 
of  the  shopkeepers  standing  at  then-  doors. 

'  Young  Amazon  Snell's  troop  are  coming  this  way.  See 
how  straight  they  hold  themselves  !  and  look  at  Hannah  at 
the  head  of  them,'  said  the  women,  hurrying  out ;  and  though 
Hannah,  like  a  well-trained  soldier,  kept  her  eyes  steadily  before 
her,  she  heard  it  all  and  her  little  back  grew  stiffer  than  ever. 

So  things  went  on  for  many  years,  till  at  the  end  of  1740 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Snell  both  died,  and  Hannah  left  Worcester  to 
live  with  one  of  her  sisters,  the  wife  of  James  Gray,  a  carpenter, 
whose  home  was  at  Wapping  in  the  east  of  London. 

Much  of  Gray's  work  lay  among  the  ships  which  drew  up 
alongside  the  wharf,  and  sailors  were  continually  in  and  out  of 
the  house  in  Ship  Street.  One  of  these,  a  Dutchman  called 
Summs,  proposed  to  Hannah,  who  married  him  in  1743,  when 
she  was  not  yet  twenty. 

She  was  a  good-looking,  pleasant  girl,  and  no  doubt  had 
attracted  plenty  of  attention.  But  of  course  she  laughed  at 
the  idea  of  her  marrying  a  shopkeeper  who  had  never  been 
outside  his  own  parish.  So,  like  Desdemona  and  many 
another  girl  before  and  after,  she  listened  entranced  to  the 
marvellous  stories  told  her  by  Summs,  and  thought  herself 
fortunate  indeed  to  have  found  such  a  husband. 

She  soon  changed  her  opinion.  Summs  very  quickly  got 
tired  of  her  ;  and  after  ill-treating  her  in  every  kind  of  way, 


YOUNG  AMAZON  SNELL  35 

and  even  selling  her  clothes,  deserted  her,  and  being  ill  and 
miserable  and  not  knowing  what  to  do,  she  thankfully  returned 
to  her  sister. 

After  some  months  of  peace  and  rest,  Hannah  grew  well 
and  strong,  and  then  she  made  up  her  mind  to  carry  out  a 
plan  she  had  formed  during  her  illness,  which  was  to  put  on 
man's  dress,  and  go  in  search  of  the  sailor  who  had  treated 
her  so  ill.  At  least  this  was  what  she  said  to  herself,  but  no 
doubt  the  real  motive  that  guided  her  was  the  possibility  of 
at  last  becoming  a  soldier  or  sailor,  and  seeing  the  world.  It 
is  not  quite  clear  if  she  confided  in  her  sister,  but  at  any  rate 
she  took  a  suit  of  her  brother-in-law's  clothes  and  his  name  into 
the  bargain,  and  it  was  as  '  James  Gray  '  that  she  enlisted  in 
Coventry  in  1745,  in  a  regiment  commanded  by  General 
Guise. 

It  was  lucky  for  Hannah  that,  unlike  most  girls  of  her  day 
and  position,  she  had  not  been  pent  up  at  home  doing  needle- 
work, as  after  three  weeks,  she  with  seventeen  other  raw  recruits 
was  ordered  to  join  her  regiment  at  Carlisle,  so  as  to  be  ready 
to  act,  if  necessary,  against  the  Highlanders  and  Prince  Charlie. 
But  these  three  weeks  had  taught  her  much  about  a  soldier's 
life  which  her  brothers  had  left  untold.  She  had  learnt  to 
talk  as  the  men  about  her  talked,  and  to  drink  with  them  if 
she  was  invited,  though  she  always  contrived  to  keep  her  head 
clear  and  her  legs  steady.  As  to  her  husband,  of  him  she 
could  hear  nothing  at  Coventry  ;  perhaps  she  might  be  more 
fortunate  in  the  north. 

In  spite  of  a  burn  on  her  foot,  which  she  had  received  after 
enlisting,  Hannah  found  no  difficulty  in  marching  to  Carlisle 
with  the  other  recruits,  and  when  they  reached  the  city  at  the 
end  of  twenty-two  days,  she  was  as  fresh  as  any  of  them. 
How  delighted  she  was  to  find  that  the  dream  of  her  childhood 
was  at  last  realised,  and  that  she  could  make  as  good  a  soldier 
as  the  rest.  But  her  spirits  were  soon  dashed  by  the  wickedness 
of  the  sergeant,  who  on  Hannah's  refusal  to  help  him  to  carry 
out  an  infamous  scheme  on  which  he  had  set  his  heart,  re- 
ported her  to  the  commanding  officer  for  neglect  of  duty.  No 
inquiry  as  to  the  truth  of  this  accusation  appears  to  have  been 

D2 


36  YOUNG  AMAZON  SNELL 

made,  and  the  sentence  pronounced  was  extraordinarily 
heavy,  even  though  it  was  thought  to  have  been  passed  on  a 
man.  The  prisoner  was  to  have  her  hands  tied  to  the  castle 
gates  and  to  receive  six  hundred  lashes.  She  actually  did 
receive  five  hundred,  at  least,  so  it  was  said,  and  then  some 
officers  who  were  present  interfered,  and  bade  them  set 
her  free. 

It  does  not  seem  as  if  Hannah  suffered  much  from  her  stripes, 
but  very  soon  a  fresh  accident  upset  all  her  plans.  The  arrival 
of  a  new  recruit  was  reported,  and  the  youth  turned  out  to  be 
a  young  carpenter  from  Wapping,  who  had  spent  several 
days  in  her  brother-in-law's  house  while  she  was  living  there. 
Hannah  made  sure  that  he  would  recognise  her  at  once,  though 
as  a  matter  of  fact  he  did  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  to  prevent 
the  shame  of  discovery,  she  determined  to  desert  the  regiment, 
and  try  her  fortune  elsewhere. 

To  go  as  far  as  possible  from  Carlisle  was  her  one  idea,  and 
what  town  could  be  better  than  Portsmouth  for  the  purpose  ? 

But  in  order  to  travel  such  a  long  way,  money  was  needed, 
and  Hannah  had  spent  all  her  own  and  did  not  know  how  to 
get  more.  She  consulted  a  young  woman  whom  she  had 
helped  when  in  great  trouble,  and  in  gratitude,  the  girl 
instantly  offered  enough  to  enable  her  friend  to  get  a  lift  on 
the  road  when  she  was  too  tired  to  walk  any  longer. 

'  If  you  get  rich,  you  can  pay  me  back,'  she  said  ;  '  if  not, 
the  debt  is  still  on  my  side.  But,  oh,  Master  Gray,  beware, 
I  pray  you  !  for  if  they  catch  you,  they  will  shoot  you,  to  a 
certainty.' 

'  No  fear,'  answered  Hannah  laughing,  and  very  early  one 
morning  she  stole  out. 

Taking  the  road  south  she  crept  along  under  the  shade  of 
the  hedge,  till  about  a  mile  from  the  town  she  noticed  a 
heap  of  clothes  lying  on  the  ground,  flung  there  by  some 
labourers  who  were  working  at  the  other  end  of  the  field. 

'  It  will  be  many  hours  yet  before  they  will  look  for  them,' 
thought  she,  '  and  fair  exchange  is  no  robbery,'  so  stooping 
low  in  the  ditch  she  slipped  off  her  regimentals,  and  hiding 
them  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  pile,  put  on  an  old  coat  and 


YOUNG  AMAZON  SNELL  37 

trousers  belonging  to  one  of  the  men.  Then  full  of  hope, 
she  started  afresh. 

Perhaps  the  commander  in  Carlisle  never  heard  of  the 
desertion  of  one  of  the  garrison,  or  perhaps  search  for  James 
Gray  was  made  in  the  wrong  direction.  However  that  may  be, 
nobody  troubled  the  fugitive,  who  weary  and  footsore,  in  a 
month's  time  entered  Portsmouth. 

At  this  point  a  new  chapter  begins  in  Hannah  Snell's 
history.  The  old  desire  to  see  the  world  was  still  strong  upon 
her,  and,  after  resting  for  a  little  in  the  house  of  some  kind 
people,  she  enlisted  afresh  in  a  regiment  of  marines.  A  few 
weeks  later,  she  was  ordered  to  join  the  '  Swallow,'  and  to  sail 
with  Admiral  Boscawen's  fleet  for  the  East  Indies. 

It  was  Hannah's  first  sea- voyage,  but,  in  spite  of  the  rough- 
ness of  the  life  on  board  ship  in  those  days,  she  was  happy 
enough.  England  was  behind  her  ;  that  was  the  chief  thing, 
and  who  could  tell  what  wonderful  adventures  lay  in  front  ? 
So  her  spirits  rose,  and  she  was  so  good-natured  and  obliging 
as  well  as  so  clever,  that  the  crew  one  and  all  declared  they 
had  found  a  treasure.  There  was  nothing  '  James  Gray  ' 
could  not  and  would  not  do — wash  their  shirts,  cook  their 
food,  mend  their  holes,  laugh  at  their  stories.  And,  as  she 
looked  a  great  deal  younger  in  her  men's  clothes  than  she  had 
done  in  her  woman's  dress,  no  one  took  her  for  anything  but 
a  boy,  and  all  willingly  helped  to  teach  her  the  duties  which 
would  fall  to  her,  both  now  and  in  case  of  war. 

She  kept  watch  for  four  hours  in  turn  with  the  rest,  and 
soon  began  to  see  in  the  dark  with  all  the  keenness  of  a 
sailor.  Next  she  was  taught  how  to  load  and  unload  a  pistol, 
which  pleased  her  very  much,  and  was  given  her  place  on  the 
quarter-deck,  where  she  was  at  once  to  take  up  her  station 
during  an  engagement.  Most  likely  she  was  forced  from  time 
to  time  to  attend  drill,  but  this  we  are  not  told. 

The  '  Swallow '  was  not  half  through  the  Bay  of  Biscay 
when  a  great  storm  arose  which  blew  the  fleet  apart,  and  did 
great  damage  to  the  vessel.  Both  her  topmasts  were  lost,  and 
it  is  a  wonder  that,  in  this  crippled  condition,  the  ship  was  able 
to  make  her  way  to  Lisbon,  where  the  crew  remained  on  shore 


38  YOUNG  AMAZON  8NELL 

till  the  ship  was  refitted,  and  she  could  join  the  rest  of  the  fleet, 
which  then  set  sail  down  the  Atlantic  towards  the  coast  of 
India. 

Except  for  more  bad  weather  and  a  scarcity  of  provisions 
on  board  the  '  Swallow,'  nothing  worthy  of  note  occurred, 
till  they  had  rounded  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  and  passed 
Madagascar. 

Some  fruitless  attacks  on  a  group  of  islands  belonging  to 
the  French  gave  Hannah  her  first  experience  of  war,  and  her 
comrades  were  anxious  as  to  how  '  the  boy  '  would  behave 
under  fire.  But  they  speedily  saw  that  there  was  no  danger 
that  any  cowardice  of  his  would  bring  discredit  on  the  regiment, 
and  that '  James  Gray '  was  as  good  a  fighter  as  he  was  a  cook. 
Perhaps  '  James  Gray,'  if  the  truth  be  told,  was  rather  relieved 
himself  when  the  bugle  sounded  a  retreat,  for  no  one  knows 
what  may  happen  to  him  in  the  excitement  of  a  first  battle  ; 
or  whether  in  the  strangeness  and  newness  of  it  all,  he  may  not 
lose  his  head  and  run  away,  and  be  covered  with  shame  for 
ever. 

None  of  this,  however,  befell  Hannah,  and  when  six  weeks 
after,  they  were  on  Indian  soil,  and  sat  down  to  besiege  the 
French  settlement  of  Pondicherry,  the  Worcestershire  girl 
was  given  more  than  one  chance  of  distinguishing  herself. 

Pondicherry  was  a  very  strong  place  and  the  walls  which 
were  not  washed  by  the  sea  were  thoroughly  fortified  and  de- 
fended by  guns,  while  the  magazines  contained  ample  supplies 
both  of  food  and  powder.  Further,  it  was  guarded  by  the  fort 
of  Areacopong  commanding  a  river,  and  with  a  battery  of 
twelve  guns  ready  to  pour  forth  fire  on  the  British  army. 
Hannah  was  speedily  told  off  with  some  others  to  bring  up 
certain  stores,  which  had  been  landed  by  the  fleet,  and,  after 
some  heavy  skirmishing,  they  succeeded  in  their  object.  Her 
company  was  then  ordered  to  cross  the  river  so  as  to  be 
able  to  march,  when  necessary,  upon  Pondicherry  itself, 
and  this  they  did  under  the  fire  of  the  guns  of  Areacopong, 
with  the  water  rising  to  their  breasts. 

At  length  the  fort  was  captured  and  great  was  the  rejoicing 
in  the  British  lines,  for  the  surrender  of  Areacopong  meant  the 


YOUNG  AMAZON  8NELL  39 

removal  of  the  chief  barrier  towards  taking  the  capital  of 
French  India. 

For  seven  nights  Hannah  had  to  be  on  picket  duty,  and 
was  later  sent  to  the  trenches,  where  she  constantly  was  obliged 
to  dig  with  the  water  up  to  her  waist,  for  the  autumn  rains 
had  now  begun. 

But  her  heart  and  soul  were  bound  up  in  the  profession  she 
had  chosen,  and  everything  else  was  forgotten,  even  her  desire 
to  revenge  herself  on  her  husband.  Not  a  soldier  in  the  army 
fought  better  than  she,  and  in  one  of  the  battles  under  the 
walls  of  Pondicherry,  she  is  said  to  have  received  eleven  shots 
in  her  legs  alone  !  She  was  carried  into  hospital,  and  when 
the  doctors  had  time  to  attend  to  her,  she  showed  them  the 
bullet  wounds  down  her  shins,  but  made  no  mention  of  a  ball 
which  had  entered  her  side,  for  she  was  resolved  not  to  submit 
to  any  examination.  This  wound  gave  her  more  pain  than 
all  the  rest  put  together,  and  after  two  days  she  made  up  her 
mind  that  in  order  to  avoid  being  discovered  for  a  woman  she 
must  extract  it  herself,  with  the  help  of  a  native  who  was 
acting  as  nurse. 

Setting  her  teeth  to  prevent  herself  shrieking  with  the 
agony  the  slightest  touch  caused  her,  Hannah  felt  about  till 
she  found  the  exact  spot  where  the  ball  was  lodged,  and  then 
pressed  the  place  until  the  bullet  was  near  enough  to  the 
surface  for  her  to  pull  it  out  with  her  finger  and  thumb.  The 
pain  of  it  all  was  such  that  she  sank  back  almost  fainting,  but 
with  a  violent  effort  she  roused  herself,  and  stretching  out  her 
hand  for  the  lint  and  the  ointment  placed  within  her  reach  by 
the  nurse,  she  dressed  the  wound.  Three  months  later  she 
was  as  well  as  ever,  and  able  to  do  the  work  of  a  sailor  on 
board  a  ship  which,  at  that  time,  was  anchored  in  the  harbour. 

As  soon  as  the  fleet  returned  from  Madras,  Hannah  was 
ordered  to  the  '  Eltham,'  but  at  Bombay  she  fell  into  disgrace 
with  the  first  lieutenant,  was  put  into  irons  for  five  days,  spent 
four  hours  at  the  foretop-masthead,  and  received  twelve 
lashes.  She  was  likewise  accused  of  stealing  a  shirt,  but, 
as  this  was  proved  to  be  false,  the  charge  only  roused  the 
anger  of  the  crew,  and  they  took  the  first  opportunity  to 


40  YOUNG  AMAZON  SNELL 

revenge  themselves  on  the  lieutenant  who  had  sentenced 
lier. 

It  was  in  November  1749  that  the  fleet  sailed  for  home,  and 
the '  Eltham '  was  directed  to  steer  a  straight  course  for  Lisbon, 
having  to  take  on  board  a  large  sum  of  money,  destined  for  some 
London  merchants.  One  day  when  she  was  ashore  with  her 
mates,  they  turned  into  a  public-house  to  have  dinner.  Here 
they  happened  to  meet  an  English  sailor,  with  whom  many  of 
the  party  were  well  acquainted.  Learning  that  he  had  been 
lately  engaged  on  a  Dutch  vessel,  Hannah  inquired  carelessly 
whether  he  had  ever  come  across  one  Jemmy  Summs. 

'  Summs  ? '  answered  the  man.  '  I  should  think  I  had. 
I  heard  of  him  only  the  other  day  at  Genoa,  in  prison  for 
killing  an  Italian  gentleman.  I  asked  to  be  allowed  to  see 
him,  and  as  he  was  condemned  to  death,  they  gave  me  leave 
to  do  so.  He  told  me  the  story  of  his  life,  and  how,  while  he 
was  in  London,  he  married  a  young  woman  called  Hannah 
Snell,  and  then  deserted  her.  More  than  six  years  have 
passed  since  that  time,  and  he  does  not  know  what  became  of 
her.  But  he  begged  me,  if  ever  I  was  near  Wapping  again, 
to  seek  her  out  and  entreat  her  to  forgive  him.  As  soon  as  he 
had  finished,  the  gaoler  entered  and  bade  us  say  farewell. 

'  That  was  the  last  we  saw  of  him,  but  before  I  left  I  heard 
that  he  had  been  sewn  up  in  a  bag  filled  with  stones,  and 
thrown  into  the  sea,  which  is  their  way  of  hanging.' 

Hannah  had  listened  in  silence,  and  would  gladly  have 
quitted  the  place,  to  think  over  the  sailor's  story  quietly. 
But  she  never  forgot  the  part  she  was  playing,  and  roused 
herself  to  tell  the  sailor  that  when  she  returned  to  England  she 
would  make  it  her  business  to  search  for  the  widow,  and  to 
help  her  if  she  seemed  in  need.  Then  she  got  up  and  called  for 
the  bill,  and  followed  by  her  companions,  rowed  back  to  the  ship. 

It  was  on  June  1,  1750,  that  Hannah  Snell  landed  in 
Portsmouth,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  days  made  her  way 
to  Wapping.  The  rough  life  she  had  led,  and  even  her  uniform, 
had  changed  her  so  little  that  her  sister  recognised  her  at  once, 
and  flung  her  arms  round  the  stranger's  neck,  much  to  the 
surprise  of  the  neighbours.  But  Hannah,  in  spite  of  her  sister's 


E    SAILORS   DRJNK  THE    HEALTH.  OF  AM AXON    SMELL, 


YOUNG  AMAZON  8NELL  43 

entreaties,  refused  to  put  on  the  dress  of  a  woman  till  she  had 
received  £15  of  pay  due  to  her,  and  two  suits ;  and  when  this 
was  done,  she  invited  those  of  the  ship's  crew  who  were  then 
in  London  to  drink  with  her  at  a  public-house,  and  there 
revealed  to  them  her  secret. 

It  was ,  however,  to  no  purpose  that  she  talked.  These  men , 
by  whose  side  she  had  fought  and  drunk  for  so  long,  would 
believe  nothing,  and  thought  it  was  just  '  one  of  Jemmy's 
stories.'  At  length  she  was  forced  to  send  for  her  sister  and 
brother-in-law,  who  swore  that  her  tale  was  true,  and  then  the 
sailors  broke  out  into  a  chorus  of  praise  of  her  courage,  her 
cleverness,  and  her  kindness,  all  the  time  that  they  had  known 
her.  One,  indeed,  made  her  an  offer  on  the  spot ;  but  Hannah 
had  had  enough  of  matrimony,  and  was  not  minded  to  tie 
herself  to  another  husband. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  wondrous  story  of  Hannah 
Snell  reached  the  ears  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  son  of 
George  II.,  and  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  British  Army.  A 
petition  was  drawn  up,  setting  forth  her  military  career,  and 
requesting  the  grant  of  a  pension  in  consideration  of  her 
services.  This  petition  an  accident  enabled  her  to  deliver 
in  person  to  the  Duke  as  he  was  leaving  his  house  in  Pall  Mall, 
and  by  the  advice  of  his  equerry,  Colonel  Napier,  the  pension  of 
a  shilling  a  day  for  life — £18  5s. — was  bestowed  on  her. 

It  does  not  sound  much  to  us,  but  money  went  a  great  deal 
further  in  those  times. 

But  her  fame  as  a  female  soldier  was  worth  much  more  to 
Hannah  than  the  scars  she  had  won  in  His  Majesty's  service. 
The  manager  of  the  theatre  at  the  New  Wells,  Goodman's 
Fields,  saw  clearly  that  the  opportunity  was  too  good  to  be  lost, 
and  that  advertisement  of  '  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Hannah  Snell, 
who  had  gained  twelve  wounds  fighting  the  French  in  India,' 
would  earn  a  large  fortune  for  him,  and  a  small  fortune  for  her. 

So  here  we  bid  her  good-bye,  and  listen  to  her  for  the  last  time 
— her  petticoats  discarded  for  ever — singing  to  the  fashionable 
audience  of  Goodman's  Fields  the  songs  with  which  she  had 
delighted  for  many  months  the  crew  of  the  '  Eltham.' 


THE   GOOD   SIR   JAMES 

MY  Sir  James  is  not  the  leal  friend  of  Robert  Bruce  nor  is  he 
the  Douglas  who  fell  at  Otterburn  and  was  buried  '  by  the 
bracken  bush  that  grows  on  yonder  lilye  lee.'  My  Sir  James 
is  alive  and  well  to-day,  and  is  one  of  the  Quiqui  people  who 
live  in  the  wood  beyond  the  avenue  at  the  end  of  our  garden. 
There  were  two  of  these  little  squirrels,  Sir  James  and  Lady 
Quiqui,  and  both  sometimes  came  on  to  the  lawn  and  grubbed 
up  crocus  bulbs  and  committed  other  sins  readily  forgiven 
to  people  of  such  beauty.  They  lived  a  peaceful  and  happy 
life  till  one  wild  November  night,  when  poor  Lady  Quiqui 
fell  or  was  blown  off  a  tree.  I  went  out  next  morning,  and 
close  to  the  garden  gate  I  found  her  little  body  on  the 
ground  still  alive,  but  unable  to  move.  I  brought  her  to 
the  house,  but  no  care  could  save  her  and  she  died  within 
a  few  hours.  Sir  James  was  now  an  inconsolable  widower. 
I  think  he  felt  lonely,  for  after  his  wife's  death  his  appearances 
about  the  house  became  more  and  more  frequent. 

The  days  were  short  and  cold,  and  every  morning  the 
ground  was  white  with  frost.  Hungry  birds  flocked  to  the 
drawing-room  window-sill  for  a  breakfast  of  bread-crumbs. 
One  day  Sir  James  came  when  they  were  feasting.  He  was 
angry  : 

*  The  feast  is  for  me,'  he  said,  and  with  skilful,  energetic 
hands  he  put  sparrows,  chaffinches,  and  robins  to  flight  and 
then  breakfasted  with  an  excellent  appetite. 

Rows  of  sad  little  birds  perched  on  the  fence,  and  sat  and 
watched  greedy  Sir  James  from  afar,  but  done  dared  come 
near  the  window  till  he  had  gone.  This  happened  nearly 
every  day. 

44 


THE  GOOD  SIR  JAMES  45 

Once  a  great  big  herring-gull  came  and  I  think  the  little 
birds  hoped  that  their  wrongs  would  now  be  avenged.  Again 
and  again  the  gull  swooped  down  and  attempted  to  snatch 
some  choice  morsel,  but  again  and  again  the  good  Sir  James 
tiny  and  brave,  drove  away  his  gigantic  foe.  It  then  circled 
round  uttering  shrieks  of  rage  and  despair,  and  finally  departed, 
leaving  Sir  James  triumphant. 

One  morning,  a  few  days  after  the  discomfiture  of  the 
herring-gull,  Sir  James  had  another  adventure.  He  had  been 
sitting  quietly  on  the  window-sill  enjoying  his  cake  and  nuts. 
All  of  a  sudden  his  mood  changed  and  he  became  very  restless 
and  angrily  excited.  He  ran  backwards  and  forwards  at  a 
great  pace  for  some  moments,  then  he  gave  a  spring  forward 
and  downward  towards  the  narrow  garden-path.  I  looked 
out  and,  to  my  horror,  saw  no  Sir  James,  but  the  terrifying 
sight  of  '  Dolly,'  the  gardener's  cat,  galloping  away  at  full 
speed.  Dolly  was  at  once  pursued  and  captured.  We 
almost  wept  with  relief  when  we  found  that  our  worst  fears 
were  not  realised  and  that  the  good  Sir  James  was  not  in 
Dolly's  mouth.  Indeed,  we  blamed  the  cat  far  too  hastily, 
and  I  now  think  that  Sir  James  was  possibly  not  the  victim, 
but  the  aggressor,  and  that  he  had  merely  been  driving  the 
innocent  Dolly  away  from  the  vicinity  of  his  breakfast.  All 
we  know  for  certain  is  that  he  very  soon  ran  back  to  this 
breakfast  and  finished  it  with  much  enjoyment,  and  that  his 
return  brought  peace  and  comfort  to  our  agitated  and  anxious 
minds. 

Sir  James  was  sometimes  unpunctual,  and  on  those  days 
the  birds  thoroughly  enjoyed  themelves.  By  the  time  the 
little  Quiqui-man  arrived,  not  a  crumb  was  to  be  found  off 
which  he  could  dine.  The  birds  twittered  with  delight. 

One  day  I  bought  a  little  cream-can  with  a  lid,  and  filled 
it  with  his  favourite  dainties.  I  then  put  it  out  on  the 
window-sill,  fastening  the  handle  firmly  to  a  nail. 

'  Fancy  expecting  a  wild  animal  to  eat  out  of  a  thing  like 
that,'  someone  remarked,  scornfully  ;  '  he  will  think  it  is  a 
trap  and  never  go  near  it.' 

I  waited  anxiously.     About  twelve  o'clock  a  startled  flight 


46  THE  GOOD  SIR  JAMES 

of  small  birds  announced  the  arrival  of  Sir  James.  Although 
there  were  still  some  crumbs  lying  about,  he  went  straight 
to  the  cream-can  and  shook  it  vigorously  with  eager  hands 
and  teeth.  It  took  him  nearly  five  minutes  to  get  it  open,  but 
he  persevered  and  succeeded.  I  then  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  him  dive  into  the  tin,  head  first,  about  half  a  dozen 
times,  each  time  reappearing  with  cake  or  a  nut. 

From  that  day  the  little  cream-can  was  kept  well  supplied 
with  nuts  and  cake.  As  tune  passed,  Sir  James  grew  more 
and  more  particular  about  his  food.  He  soon  scorned  crocus 
bulbs  and  even  bread-crumbs,  insisting  on  a  diet  of  shortbread 
cake  and  nuts.  He  always  selected  the  biggest  nut  or  piece 
of  cake  to  carry  home.  It  was  surprising  what  he  could  do. 
He  was  one  day  seen  dragging  off  about  a  third  of  a  coconut 
that  I  had  hung  up  for  the  tits,  and  he  managed  to  get  this 
heavy  burden  over  the  high  fence  that  bounds  our  garden. 

Another  time  we  put  uncracked  nuts  in  the  can  instead  of 
the  usually  carefully  prepared  ones.  Sir  James  examined 
them,  dropped  them,  and  then  with  angry  hands  drummed 
upon  the  window-panes.  Our  guilty  consciences  told  us  what 
was  wrong,  so  we  gently  opened  the  window.  Sir  James 
disappeared  for  a  few  moments,  but  long  before  we  had 
finished  cracking  the  nuts  he  was  back  and  watching  us.  We 
have  never  since  dared  offer  him  uncracked  nuts. 

Winter  passed,  and  '  in  the  spring  a  young  man's  fancy  turns 
to  thoughts  of  love.'  Sir  James  was  very  lonely  and  he  longed 
for  the  companionship  of  his  own  kind.  He  took  to  wandering. 
Sometimes  days  went  by  without  our  seeing  him,  and  our 
hearts  were  anxious  when  the  little  cream-can  remained  with 
closed  lid  and  contents  untouched.  Then  on  one  occasion  I 
met  the  Quiqui-man  nearly  a  mile  from  home.  I  knew  him 
at  once  and  he  knew  me,  for  he  came  half-way  down  a  tree  to 
greet  me,  waving  his  little  brown  hands  with  ten  very  black 
nails.  When  I  saw  the  good  Sir  James  so  far  from  home,  I 
feared  for  him.  I  thought  of  the  perils  from  hawks  and  prowl- 
ing cats  that  he  was  daily  incurring.  Something  must  be 
done  and  at  once.  Negotiations  produced  the  arrival  a  few 
days  later  of  Jemima  Golightly,  a  fine  handsome  squirrel, 


THE  GOOD  SIR  JAMES  47 

who  came  by  herself  all  the  way  from  Eastbourne  to  these 
West  Highland  shores.  Miss  Golightly  was  instantly  put  in  a 
cage,  and  next  morning  the  wedding  breakfast  was  prepared 
and  put  in  the  cream-can.  The  cage  was  placed  on  a  table 
by  the  open  window  in  the  drawing-room.  How  anxiously 
I  watched  for  the  coming  of  Sir  James  !  At  last  he  appeared. 
Just  as  he  was  making  for  his  cream-can,  his  quick  eye  de- 
tected Miss  Golightly.  In  a  moment  he  was  on  the  top  of  the 
cage  tugging  away  at  the  handle,  while  Miss  Golightly  inside 
rushed  round  and  round,  banging  herself  about  so  that  I 
thought  the  cage  would  get  knocked  over.  Sir  James,  finding 
his  efforts  with  tooth  and  nail  were  unsuccessful,  bestowed 
a  further  inspection  on  the  cage.  He  soon  discovered  the 
door  which  opened  easily  to  his  skilful  touch.  Miss  Golightly 
sprang  out  with  a  graceful  bound — poor  little  captive,  set 
free  by  as  gallant  a  knight  as  ever  sat  at  Arthur's  table. 

The  two  squirrels  stood  quite  still  for  a  moment.  Then 
Sir  James  led  the  way  through  the  open  window,  closely 
followed  by  Miss  Golightly.  I  rushed  to  the  library.  From 
there  I  could  see  the  two  little  forms  making  for  the  beech 
avenue.  I  was  delighted.  My  joy,  however,  received  a 
decided  check  when  Sir  James  reappeared  alone,  half  an  hour 
afterwards.  He  went  at  once  to  the  cream-can  and  in 
solitary  splendour  ate  nearly  all  the  wedding  breakfast.  Had 
he  already  deserted  the  little  English  bride  he  had  so  bravely 
rescued.  Sir  James  resumed  his  daily  visits  to  the  cream-can, 
but  he  never  said  anything  about  the  bride.  To  be  sure,  he 
always  took  away  a  tribute  when  he  went  home,  but  as  he  was 
in  the  habit  of  doing  this,  we  could  not  feel  certain  that  it  was 
intended  for  anybody  but  himself. 

It  was  about  a  fortnight  later  that  a  servant  came  to 
my  room  and  said,  '  Sir  James  is  at  the  window.'  I 
went  at  once  to  the  drawing-room  and,  to  my  surprise, 
saw,  not  Sir  James,  but  the  little  bride.  She  was  redder  in 
colour  than  Sir  James,  and  had  much  bigger  hands.  I  was 
enchanted,  and  still  more  so  when  a  few  minutes  later  the  good 
Sir  James  himself  arrived  on  the  scene,  and  it  was  certainly 
charming  to  see  the  two  little  squirrels  side  by  side  on  the 


48  THE  GOOD  SIR  JAMES 

window-sill.  Both  the  Qui-qui  people  have  often  come  since 
then,  but  Lady  Quiqui  has  never  to  this  day  learned  the  secret 
of  the  cream-can.  Sir  James  himself  always  performs  the 
opening  ceremony,  and  he  then  retires  and  allows  his  lady  to 
dine.  When  he  thinks  that  she  has  had  enough  he  comes  back 
and  she  goes  away  home,  and  he  feasts  on  what  is  left. 

Sir  James  seems  content  with  this  arrangement  and  never 
fails  to  give  Lady  Quiqui  first  choice  of  all  the  good  things. 
This  is  the  more  touching  as  he  is  rather  a  greedy  little  man. 
Greedy,  generous,  and  brave  ;  and  all  of  us,  who  know  him, 
realise  the  fascination  of  the  good  Sir  James. 

E.  A.  C. 


RIP   VAN   WINKLE 

WEST  of  the  river  Hudson,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  Catskill 
Mountains,  lies  one  of  the  oldest  European  villages  in  the 
United  States  of  America.  It  was  built  by  some  of  the  earliest 
Dutch  settlers,  who  were  so  anxious  to  have  everything  nice 
and  tidy  as  it  would  have  been  at  home,  that  they  brought  a 
large  supply  of  bricks  and  weathercocks  from  Holland  to 
make  it,  and  you  would  never  have  guessed  from  the  look  of 
the  houses  that  you  were  in  the  New  World. 

In  course  of  time  the  snows  of  winter  and  the  heats  of 
summer  began  to  leave  their  mark  on  the  surface  of  the 
bricks,  and  the  cottages  that  were  not  well  cared  for  showed 
signs  of  wear  and  tear.  In  one  of  the  shabbiest  of  them  there 
dwelt  while  New  York  was  still  a  British  Colony  a  descendant 
of  one  of  the  old  fighters,  called  Rip  van  Winkle.  Rip  was 
one  of  those  delightful  people  who  are  never  too  busy  to 
listen  to  your  troubles  or  to  sympathise  with  your  grievances, 
and  if  you  were  short-handed  in  the  hay-field  or  had  no  one  to 
grind  the  corn,  you  might  always  count  on  him.  But  if  men 
and  women  loved  him,  children  adored  him.  He  made  the 
best/  toys,  flew  kites  when  there  really  seemed  no  breeze  to 
lift  them  from  the  ground,  and  bowled  over  a  larger  number 
of  ninepins  than  the  cleverest  of  them  all.  As  he  passed 
through  the  fields  or  the  village  street,  the  children  ran  out  of 
the  houses  and  gathered  about  him,  till  you  might  have  thought 
that  the  days  of  the  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin  had  come  back. 
And  if  a  child  was  ill  or  a  snowstorm  heavier  than  usual  was 
raging,  there  would  be  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Rip's  cheerful 
pink  face  would  enter,  with  tales  of  ghosts  and  witches  and 
Indians,  which,  like  all  the  very  nicest  things,  were  a  joy  and 
a  terror  in  one. 


50  RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

Yet,  for  some  reason  which  few  persons  and  certainly  none 
of  the  children  could  understand,  Rip's  wife  did  not  seem  to 
appreciate  him  as  highly  as  his  friends  did.  When  he  came 
home  in  the  evening  and  was  burning  to  tell  her  how  he  had 
spent  alf  day  sitting  on  a  wet  rock  above  a  splendid  pool  in 
the  river,  and  how  very  cleverly  he  had  caught  all  sorts  of  big 
fish,  she  would  point  to  some  logs  which  needed  splitting  for 
the  kitchen  fire.  When  he  began  to  relate  how  the  gale  of 
last  night  had  blown  down  Farmer  Gilpin's  stone  wall,  and 
that  it  had  taken  both  of  them  all  the  morning  and  afternoon 
to  set  it  up  again,  she  would  ask  him  how  it  was  he  had  never 
perceived  the  gap  in  his  own  fence.  And  if  she  inquired 
why  the  plums  in  the  orchard  had  not  been  gathered,  but  had 
fallen  rotting  to  the  ground,  she  did  not  seem  content 
with  his  answer  that  good- wife  Barker  had  run  out  of  thread, 
and  could  not  go  on  with  her  spinning  till  he  fetched  her  a 
supply. 

*  Everyone's  business  but  your  own,'  she  replied  bitterly, 
to  which  Rip,  though  he  never  got  cross,  would  murmur  with 
a  downcast  face  that  his  farm  was  the  worst  bit  of  land  in  the 
country  and  would  grow  nothing  but  weeds.  And  that  of 
Course  he  could  not  have  guessed  that  the  cow  which  was 
-feeding  at  the  other  end  of  the  field  would  have  spied  the  hole 
in  the  hedge,  and  have  eaten  all  the  cabbages  in  the  garden  ; 
and  if  ever  he  planted  any  seed,  the  rain  was  sure  to  wash  it 
out  of  the  ground  before  it  had  time  to  take  root. 

Now  it  must  be  admitted  that  Mrs.  van  Winkle  had  some 
grounds  for  complaint,  for  though  she  did  nothing  but  grumble, 
she  worked  hard  to  feed  the  children,  not  thinking  it  necessary 
however  to  mend  their  clothes.  They  were  the  oddest 
sights  in  the  cast-off  garments  of  their  father  and  mother,  or 
of  anyone  who  took  pity  on  their  ragged  condition  ;  and  the 
oddest  of  all  was  young  Rip,  whose  coat  tails  if  not  held  well 
up  or  pinned  across  him  in  front,  trailed  on  the  ground  behind 
him  like  a  lady's  train. 

Still  the  children  were,  in  spite  of  the  drawbacks,  as  happy 
as  kings.  They  did  not  want  to  be  made  clean  and  tidy,  and 
they  were  so  used  to  hearing  their  mother  scolding — scolding 


RIP    VAN   WINKLE  51 

all  the  day  long — that  they  would  have  quite  missed  the  sound 
of  her  tongue  if  it  had  ever  stopped. 

But  there  was  no  danger  of  that. 

Except  Rip,  the  only  person  who  minded  Mrs.  van  Winkle's 
ill-temper  was  Rip's  inseparable  companion,  his  dog  Wolf. 
As  soon  as  he  entered  the  house,  his  tail  instead  of  being  carried 
proudly  in  the  air,  fell  between  his  legs  ;  and  far  from  jumping 
about  and  putting  his  muddy  paws  on  your  knees  as  a  happy 
dog  always  does,  he  would  sneak  into  the  darkest  corner, 
and  try  to  escape  notice. 

As  the  years  went  by,  things  grew  worse  and  not  better. 
Rip  spent  less  and  less  time  at  home  and  was  generally  to  be 
found  sitting  on  a  bench  in  front  of  the  inn  telling  some  of  his 
old  stories  or  discussing  with  other  idle  men  the  actions  of 
the  Government  of  which  none  of  them  knew  anything,  and 
which  generally  were  over  and  done  with  weeks  before.  These 
gatherings  were  presided  over  by  Nicholas  Vedder  the  land- 
lord, who  said  little  but  smoked  his  pipe  and  looked  wise. 

For  a  while  Rip  was  left  in  peace  and  enjoyed  himself ; 
then  one  day  his  wife  broke  in  upon  the  peaceable  company 
and  scolded  them  for  their  idleness  till  they  all  fled  in  different 
directions.  After  that  Rip  went  there  no  more,  but  whistled 
to  Wolf,  and,  taking  down  his  gun,  went  up  into  the  mountains. 

On  a  fine  autumn  morning,  the  two  friends  went  off  as 
usual,  and  climbed  to  one  of  the  highest  peaks  of  the  Catskills. 
At  length,  quite  exhausted.  Rip  threw  himself  down  a  green 
knoll  almost  on  top  of  a  cliff,  and  watched  the  sun  sinking 
slowly  in  the  West.  The  Hudson  river,  bounded  with  woods, 
could  be  seen  on  one  side  of  him  ;  a  deep  stony  glen  was 
on  the  other;  and  all  about  him  the  stillness  seemed  in  itself 
to  bring  rest  and  peace.  But  the  lengthening  shadows  gave 
him  warning  that  he  must  retrace  his  steps  at  once,  unless 
he  wished  to  be  barred  out  of  his  house,  and  heavily  he  rose 
to  his  feet  and  whistled  to  Wolf,  when  he  heard  a  voice  crying 
'  Rip  van  Winkle ! ' 

He  looked  round  with  a  start,  but  as  he  saw  nothing  but  a 


52  RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

crow  flying  home  to  bed,  he  thought  his  ears  must  have 
deceived  him.  He  turned  again  to  the  path,  when  a  second 
time  the  cry  sounded,  '  Rip  van  Winkle  !  Rip  van  Winkle  !  ' 
and  at  the  same  instant  Wolf  gave  a  howl,  and  his  hair  stood 
up  as  if  something  terrible  was  in  the  neighbourhood.  Rip 
followed  the  direction  of  the  dog's  eyes,  which  were  fixed  with 
an  expression  of  fear  on  the  glen  ;  and  Rip,  with  a  sinking 
of  heart  that  he  could  not  explain,  beheld  a  shadowy  figure 
toiling*  towards  them  through  the  rocks,  weighed  down  by 
something  heavy  which  it  carried  on  its  back. 

'  Poor  old  fellow  !  he  can  hardly  get  along.  I  had  better 
go  and  help  him,'  thought  Rip,  and  set  off  down  the  path  ;  but 
when  he  came  near  to  the  stranger  he  stopped  in  surprise,  for 
never  had  he  beheld  anyone  so  odd. 

The  man  was  old  and  short  and  square,  with  a  shock  of 
thick  bushy  hair,  and  a  long  greyish  beard.  He  was  dressed 
after  the  Dutch  fashion  of  a  hundred  years  back,  in  a  jacket 
belted  round  the  waist,  and  several  pairs  of  breeches,  each  a 
little  longer  than  the  other.  On  his  shoulder  was  a  keg  of 
liquor,  nearly  as  big  as  himself. 

'  Let  me  take  that  for  a  bit,'  said  Rip,  and  though  the 
dwarf  did  not  understand  his  words,  there  was  no  mistaking  the 
meaning  of  Rip's  outstretched  hands.  So,  carrying  the  keg  by 
turns  they  clambered  upwards  apparently  along  the  bed  of  a 
mountain  stream,  while  thunder  rolled  about  them.  Now  of 
course,  thunder  in  mountains  is  common  enough,  but  what 
was  uncommon  about  this  thunder  was,  that  instead  of  coming 
from  above,  them,  it  seemed  to  issue  from  a  narrow  cleft  of 
the  rock  in  front  of  them,  where  the  path  ended. 

When  they  reached  the  ravine,  the  dwarf  led  the  way 
through  the  cleft  and  signed  to  his  companion  to  follow,  for 
they  could  not  walk  abreast.  Once  through  the  cleft,  Rip  found 
himself  in  a  round,  hollow  place  enclosed  by  precipices  over- 
hung by  trees,  so  that  it  would  be  completely  concealed 
from  anyone  walking  on  the  mountain.  The  branches  and 
the  leaves  were  so  thick  that  even  the  bright  rays  of  the 
setting  sun  could  hardly  pierce  through  them. 

At  the  entrance  to  the  hollow  Rip  paused  again,  for  before 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE  55 

him  was  a  group  of  little  men  playing  ninepins.  Like  his 
guide  they  wore  jerkins  and  breeches,  and  knives  were  stuck 
in  their  belts.  They  were  all  very  ugly,  with  long  beards  and 
large  noses,  and  one  who  appeared  the  leader  had  a  high- 
crowned  hat  with  a  feather  and  high-heeled  shoes  with  roses 
on  them — very  unfit,  thought  Rip,  for  climbing  about  those 
rough  paths. 

As  Rip  and  his  companion  came  out  from  the  cleft,  the 
little  men  suddenly  stopped  their  game,  which  they  had  played 
in  dead  silence  and  without  seeming  in  the  least  to  enjoy  it. 
They  turned  and  looked  at  the  stranger,  and  Rip  felt  his  blood 
run  cold  and  his  knees  knock  together.  Why  he  could  not  have 
told,  except  that  their  faces  had  a  queer,  fixed  expression  such 
as  he  had  never  seen  on  the  face  of  any  living  being.  But  no 
time  was  allowed  him  to  indulge  in  these  thoughts,  for  his 
companion  signed  to  him  to  fill  some  big  flagons  which  stood 
on  one  side,  from  the  keg  they  had  carried. 

When  the  players  had  emptied  the  flagons,  they  went  back 
to  their  game,  seeming  as  melancholy  as  before. 

After  a  while  Rip  began  to  grow  a  little  less  frightened,  and 
he  even  ventured,  when  no  one  was  observing  him,  to  take  a 
good  draught  out  of  the  keg  himself.  As  soon  as  he  had  done 
so,  his  eyes  and  head  became  very  heavy,  and  he  fell  down 
where  he  stood,  sunk  in  a  deep  sleep. 

It  was  bright  and  sunny  when  Rip  woke,  lying  curled  up 
comfortably  on  the  green  knoll  from  which  he  had  first  beheld 
the  old  man  climbing  up  the  path.  The  birds  were  twittering 
in  the  bushes  and  hopping  round  him,  and  high  up  over  the 
tops  of  the  mountains  an  eagle  was  soaring. 

'  Have  I  really  slept  here  all  night  ?  '  he  said  to  himself. 
'  Oh,  dear,  how  angry  my  wife  will  be  !  '  Then  he  sat  up,  and 
there  rushed  into  his  mind  the  cleft  in  the  rocks  and  the  little 
men  playing  ninepins.  '  It  was  the  flagon  which  was  my 
undoing,'  said  he. 

Scrambling  to  his  feet,  he  looked  about  for  his  gun,  but 
in  place  of  the  well-kept  weapon,  with  its  shining  barrel  (the 


56  RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

only  thing  on  which  Rip  ever  bestowed  any  care),  he  saw  an 
old,  rusty  firelock,  with  the  wooden  stock  eaten  by  worms  and 
falling  away. 

'  Why  they  have  been  playing  tricks  on  me  and  changed 
my  gun  !  '  he  exclaimed,  '  though  they  did  look  so  solemn  ; 
but  what  has  become  of  Wolf  ?  Gone  after  a  squirrel,  I 
suppose,'  and  he  whistled  loudly  to  call  him  back. 

But  whistle  as  Rip  might,  for  the  first  time  he  heard  no 
bark  in  answer. 

'  Oh,  well !  he  will  come  home  when  he  is  tired.  I'll  go 
back  to  that  curious  place,  and  tell  them  I  must  have  my  own 
gun.'  But  as  Rip  moved  to  climb  the  path  he  felt  his  legs 
stiff,  and  was  obliged  to  go  slowly. 

'  These  mountain  roads  don't  agree  with  me,'  he  thought. 
'  I  mustn't  be  caught  in  this  way  a  second  time,'  and  with 
great  difficulty  he  made  his  way  to  the  gully.  But  since  he 
saw  it  last,  the  face  of  the  glen  had  altered  completely.  Instead 
of  the  dried-up  watercourse  through  which  he  and  the  dwarf 
had  painfully  clambered,  a  torrent  was  now  dashing  itself 
from  rock  to  rock,  so  that  Rip  was  obliged  to  take  a  round- 
about path  through  the  mass  of  shrubs  and  creepers  that 
clothed  the  sides  of  the  ravine.  Pushing  and  fighting,  he  at 
length  reached  the  spot  where  the  cleft  led  to  the  hollow  in 
the  rocks.  But  what  a  change  from  the  evening  before  !  The 
opening  had  entirely  vanished,  and  a  high  waterfall  leapt 
from  above  into  a  round  basin.  '  Surely  this  was  the  place  ? 
Yes  !  I  am  certain  of  it !  '  cried  the  bewildered  Rip,  and  again 
he  tried  to  call  to  Wolf,  but  his  voice  died  away  in  his  throat. 

'  Well,  I  can't  starve  among  the  mountains,  whatever 
happens,'  he  said,  with  a  show  of  briskness  which  would  not 
have  deceived  anybody,  if  anybody  but  himself  had  been 
there  to  see  ;  and  taking  up  the  old  rusty  gun,  he  began  to  go 
down  the  mountain. 

As  he  drew  near  the  village  he  met  several  people  and  was 
surprised  to  find  they  were  all  strangers  to  him.  '  Where  can 
they  all  have  come  from,  and  who  can  they  be  ?  '  he  said.  '  I 
didn't  think  there  could  be  three  people  for  miles  round 
unknown  to  me.  What  queer  dresses  they  have  on,  too  ! 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE  57 

Can  they  be  a  crew  of  foreigners  shipwrecked  in  the  Sound, 
who  have  strayed  up  here  ?  If  they  are,  they  have  been  pretty 
quick  about  it.  And  really,'  he  thought  as  he  glanced  back 
over  his  shoulder  and  noticed  them  staring  at  him,  '  they 
seem  to  find  me  as  odd  as  I  find  them  !  And  why  do  they  all 
stroke  their  chins  as  they  look  at  me  ?  Is  anything  the  matter 
with  my  chin  ?  '  and  as  he  put  his  hand  up  to  feel  it,  he 
discovered  that  he  had  grown  a  beard  a  foot  long. 

By  this  time  he  had  entered  the  village  street  and  a  group 
of  children  gathered  at  his  heels.  At  that  his  eyes  brightened 
and  his  face  lost  something  of  its  half-puzzled,  half -frightened 
expression.  Here,  at  least,  was  something  to  which  he  was 
accustomed,  but  instead  of  the  smiles  and  shouts  of  joy  which 
formerly  greeted  him,  these  children  hooted  rudely,  and  pointed 
to  his  beard. 

Then  indeed  Rip's  heart  began  to  fail  within  him.  What 
was  the  matter  that  in  one  night  everything  had  changed  so, 
and  nothing  seemed  as  it  was  only  yesterday  ?  And  now  he 
came  to  think  of  it,  after  a  single  night  the  village  appeared 
much  bigger,  and  the  fields  that  were  green  when  he  went  up  the 
mountain,  were  full  of  houses  to-day.  Even  the  very  dogs 
did  not  know  him,  and  perhaps  that  was  worst  of  all. 
'  I  am  bewitched,'  thought  Rip.  '  It  can't  all  be  that  flagon.' 

He  turned  to  go  to  his  own  house,  but  the  very  road  to  it 
was  altered,  and  he  lost  his  way  more  than  once.  At  last 
he  struck  into  a  path  which  he  recognised,  and  he  stopped 
for  a  moment  expecting  to  hear  his  wife's  voice  scolding 
somebody.  But  all  was  still,  and  as  he  drew  nearer  he  saw 
that  the  roof  had  fallen  in,  and  the  glass  of  the  windows  was 
broken.  A  half-starved  dog  was  prowling  round,  and  with  a 
throb  of  joy  Rip  whistled  and  called  to  him,  '  Wolf,  Wolf  ! 
Come  here,  good  dog  !  '  but  the  dog  snarled  and  showed  his 
teeth  before  trotting  away. 

Was  it  Wolf,  or  not  ?   Rip  never  knew. 

Inside,  the  house  was  as  desolate  as  without,  and  very 
unlike  to  what  Rip  had  been  accustomed  to  see  it.  Though 


58  RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

he  felt  it  was  useless,  he  shouted  the  names  of  his  wife  and 
children ;  then  a  thrill  of  fear  passed  over  VlHi,  and  not 
daring  to  look  behind  him,  he  hurried  bacr"  Hhe  street. 

'  I  must  go  and  have  a  drink,'  he  said.  '  U^o'urse,  I  had  no 
breakfast  and  that  has  made  my  head  get  queer.  A  little 
food  will  set  me  to  rights.' 

So  he  hastened  on  to  the  village  inn,  and,  being  busy  with 
his  thoughts,  walked  with  his  eyes  on  the  ground  till  his  feet 
unconsciously  halted  at  the  old  place.  Then  he  glanced  up, 
but  only  to  receive  another  shock.  The  ancient  structure 
with  its  latticed  panes  and  gabled  roof  was  gone,  and  instead 
he  beheld  a  long  sort  of  wooden  shed,  untidy  and  dirty,  the 
windows  more  holes  than  glass,  and  stuffed  with  old  hats  or 
even  petticoats  to  keep  out  the  air.  Over  the  door  was 
painted  a  sign  bearing  the  words  '  Union  Hotel,  by  Jonathan 
Doolittle.'  In  the  room  of  the  great  tree  in  front,  where  he  and 
his  friends  had  smoked  so  many  pipes,  was  a  pole  crowned 
with  a  sort  of  red  nightcap  from  which  a  flag  fluttered.  An 
odd  kind  of  flag  it  was  too,  for  when  the  wind  blew  it  out, 
you  saw,  not  the  familiar  criss-cross  lines  of  the  Union  Jack, 
but  stars  and  stripes  which  had  never  appeared  on  any 
English  banner  as  far  as  Rip  knew  !  And  when  his  eyes 
fell  upon  the  sign  where  a  very  pink-faced  King  George  in  a 
red  coat  was  wont  to  gaze  at  his  loyal  subjects,  he  too  had 
vanished  and  given  place  to  a  gentleman  in  blue  and  buff, 
holding  a  sword  instead  of  a  sceptre,  while  underneath  was 
painted  in  large  letters 

GENERAL  WASHINGTON. 

From  the  inn  Rip  turned  to  the  crowd  that  stood  about  it, 
and  even  here  the  strange  alteration  that  pervaded  everything 
and  everybody  was  visible.  There  was  none  of  the  former 
air  of  calm  and  leisure  characteristic  of  the  friends  who  had 
sat  with  him  round  the  tree  yesterday — or  was  it  a  hundred 
years  ago  ?  This  crowd  was  noisy  and  bustling  and  inclined  to 
quarrel :  full  of  plans  and  inventions  to  judge  by  the  talk,  and 
eager  to  discuss  and  find  fault  with  the  contents  of  a  handbill, 
which  one  of  their  number  was  handing  about.  Rip  did  not 


RIP   VAN  WINKLE  59 

understand  much  of  what  they  were  saying,  but  he  caught 
such  phra?"s  as  '  Members  of  Congress,'  '  Bunker's  Hill,' 
'  liberty,'  '<  'Her  expressions  as  meaningless  to  him  as  if 
they  were  u.  \,  .  in  a  foreign  tongue. 

It  was  some  time  before  he  noticed  that  to  the  villagers  on 
their  side  he  himself  was  an  object  of  great  interest  and 
curiosity.  They  pressed  round  him  and  made  remarks  to 
each  other  about  his  strange  dress  and  the  rust  on  his  gun,  while 
the  little  man  with  the  handbills  pushed  his  way  up  to  him  and 
inquired  '  how  he  had  voted  1  '  which  Rip,  who  had  not  the 
least  idea  what  he  meant,  answered  merely  with  a  stare. 
Another  who  desired  to  know  '  whether  he  was  Federal  or 
Democrat '  fared  no  better ;  but  a  third  questioner,  who  asked 
why  he  had  come  to  the  election  with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder 
and  a  mob  at  his  heels,  and  if  he  intended  to  head  a  riot,  at 
last  gave  Rip  back  his  power  of  speech. 

'  Alas  !  gentlemen,'  he  cried ;  '  I  am  a  poor,  quiet  man,  a 
native  of  this  village  and  a  loyal  subject  of  King  George.' 

The  tumult  that  broke  forth  at  this  reply  nearly  deafened 
him.  '  A  spy  !  a  spy  !  '  shouted  the  people,  '  away  with 
him !  to  the  gallows  with  him ! '  and  it  might  have  gone  hardly 
with  Rip  had  not  a  man  in  a  cocked  hat  interfered  and  called 
them  to  order.  The  man  next  demanded  of  Rip  what  he 
wanted  and  why  he  was  there,  to  which  Rip  humbly  made 
answer  that  he  had  come  in  search  of  some  of  his  neighbours 
who  had  been  used  to  meet  him  at  the  tavern. 

'  Well,  give  us  their  names  1 '  said  the  man  in  the  cocked 
hat. 

'  Nicholas  Vedder,  the  innkeeper,'  answered  Rip. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  ;  then  an  old  man,  in  a 
thin  piping  voice,  spoke. 

'  Nicholas  Vedder  ?  Why,  he 's  dead  and  gone  these 
eighteen  years  ;  and  even  his  wooden  tombstone  in  the 
churchyard  has  got  rotten.' 

'  And  Brom  Butcher  ?  ' 

'  Oh,  he  enlisted  as  a  soldier  in  the  beginning  of  the  war. 
Some  say  he  was  killed  at  the  storming  of  Stony  Point ;  others, 


60  RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

that  he  was  drowned  in  a  squall  off  Antony's  Nose.  Anyway, 
he  never  came  back  here.' 

'  And  van  Bummel,  the  schoolmaster  ?  ' 

'  He  went  off  to  the  wars  too,  and  became  a  general,  and 
is  now  a  member  of  Congress.' 

Rip  asked  no  further  questions  :  his  home  and  his  friends 
were  gone,  and  he  seemed  to  be  alone  in  the  world.  At  length 
a  cry  of  despair  broke  from  him. 

'  Does  nobody  know  Rip  van  Winkle  ?  ' 

*  Rip  van  Winkle  ?  '  answered  two  or  three.  'Oh,  to  be 
sure  !  There's  Rip  van  Winkle  leaning  against  that  tree.' 

Rip  looked  where  they  pointed,  and  grew  more  bewildered 
and  despairing  than  ever.  For  what  he  saw  was  himself  ; 
himself  as  he  had  been  yesterday  when  he  went  up  the  moun- 
tain ;  himself  in  the  rags  that  he  had  worn  with  such  a  light 
heart. 

'  And  what  is  your  name  ?  '  asked  the  man  in  the  cocked 
hat,  watching  his  face. 

'  God  knows,'  cried  Rip ;  '  I  don't  know  who  I  am.  I'm 
not  myself.  I'm  somebody  else — that's  me  yonder— at  least 
I  can't  tell ;  he  seems  to  have  got  into  my  shoes.  I  was  myself 
last  night,  but  I  fell  asleep  on  the  mountain  and  they  changed 
my  gun,  and  rmyt  everything  is  changed  and  I'm  changed,  and 
I  don't  know  what  is  my  name  or  who  I  am.' 

When  he  had  ceased,  the  bystanders  looked  at  each  other 
and  tapping  their  foreheads,  whispered  something  about 
taking  away  the  gun  so  that  he  might  not  do  himself  a  mis- 
chief. They  were  still  talking  when  a  pleasant-faced  woman 
pushed  through  the  crowd  to  get  a  peep  of  the  stranger  with  the 
long  beard.  His  looks  frightened  the  child  she  was  carrying, 
and  it  began  to  cry.  '  Hush,  Rip  !  hush  !  '  she  said  ;  '  the 
old  man  won't  hurt  you.' 

As  he  heard  her  words  Rip  started  and  turned  towards 
her  eagerly. 

'  What  is  your  name  ? '  he  asked. 

'  Judith  Gardener.' 

'  And  who  was  your  father  ?  ' 

'  Ah,  poor  man,  he  was  Rip  van  Winkle ;  but  he  went  away 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE  61 

from  home  more  than  twenty  years  agone.  He  took  his  dog 
and  his  gun  with  him,  and  the  dog  was  found  lying  in  front 
of  the  door  early  next  morning.  But  as  for  father,  whether 
he  shot  himself  by  accident  or  was  carried  away  by  the  Indians, 
we  never  knew.  I  was  only  a  little  girl  then.' 
'  And  your  mother  ?  ' 

'  Oh,  she  died  only  a  short  time  since.  She  flew  into  such 
a  passion  with  a  pedlar  who  she  thought  had  cheated  her,  that 
she  broke  a  blood  vessel.' 

But  though  Rip  had  inquired  after  his  wife,  all  affection 
for  her  had  long  died  away,  and  he  did  not  take  this  news 
much  to  heart.  He  flung  his  arms  round  his  daughter  and 
cried. 

'  I  am  your  father.  Don't  you  know  me  ?  Young  Rip  van 
Winkle  once,  now  old  Rip  van  Winkle.  Does  nobody  know 
poor  Rip  van  Winkle  ?  ' 

The  crowd  heard,  amazed,  and  in  silence.  Then  suddenly 
an  old  woman  went  up  to  him,  and  peered  closely  into  his  face. 

'  Why,  'tis  Rip  van  Wrinkle,  for  sure  !  '  said  she.  '  Wel- 
come home,  neighbour  !  Where  have  you  been  these  twenty 
long  years  ? ' 

Rip's  story  was  soon  told,  but  the  people  who  listened  to 
it  had  as  much  difficulty  in  believing  that  you  could  sleep  for 
twenty  years  and  think  it  was  one  night*  as  Rip  himself. 
'  Mad ! '  was  the  only  interpretation  they  put  upon  the  tale, 
though  they  did  not  say  so  openly. 

In  the  midst  of  the  general  perplexity  an  old  man  was  seen 
coming  along  the  road,  and  someone  called  out : 

'  Here  is  Peter  Vanderdonk  !  Let  us  ask  him  if  he  ever 
knew  of  such  doings  ?  ' 

'  Ay,  let  us  !  He  is  the  oldest  dweller  in  the  village,  and  we 
will  abide  by  his  words,'  the  rest  answered  in  chorus,  and  they 
watched  intently  till  Peter  came  up. 

'  Why  !  'tis  Rip  van  Winkle  back  again  !  '  he  exclaimed, 
just  as  the  old  woman  had  done.  '  Right  glad  I  am  to  see 
him,  too.' 

WTio  can  tell  the  joy  of  poor  Rip  at  this  hearty  greeting  ? 
So  he  was  no  ghost  after  all,  as  he  had  almost  begun  to  think, 


62  RIP  VAN  WINKLE 

but  a  flesh  and  blood  man,  with  friends  like  other  people.  He 
could  hardly  speak  for  happiness,  but  he  grasped  Peter's 
hand  tightly,  and  then  the  man  with  the  cocked  hat  asked 
Peter  if  he  had  ever  heard  any  strange  stories  of  the  Catskill 
Mountains. 

'  Ay,  that  have  I,  many  a  time,'  replied  Peter.  '  My 
grandfather — he  was  mighty  taken  up  with  all  such  things — 
told  me  that  the  great  Hendrik  Hudson  who  first  came  over 
from  Europe  and  gave  his  name  to  the  river,  held  a  feast  up 
there  once  in  every  twenty  years,  with  the  crew  of  his  ship  the 
"  Half  Moon"  ;  and  my  old  father  had  actually  beheld  them 
playing  at  ninepins  in  the  hollow  of  the  mountains.  And 
though  I  never  saw  anything  myself,'  finished  Peter,  '  I  heard 
the  sound  of  then:  balls  one  summer  afternoon,  and  anybody 
who  did  not  know,  would  have  thought  it  was  thunder.' 

After  this  the  crowd  broke  up  and  went  about  its  own 
concerns,  and  Rip  returned  \vith  his  daughter  to  her  own 
house.  Her  husband  was  one  of  the  children  he  had  played 
with  long  ago,  and  he  was  now  a  thriving  farmer.  Rip's  son, 
whom  he  had  seen  leaning  against  the  tree,  was  supposed  to  be 
employed  on  the  farm,  but  he  was  no  more  fond  of  attending 
to  his  own  work  than  his  father  before  him. 

Little  by  little  Rip  slipped  back  into  his  former  life,  and 
gathered  about  him  those  of  his  old  friends  that  were  still 
left.  But  now,  as  in  the  days  of  long  ago,  it  was  the  children 
whom  he  loved  best,  and  when  they  grew  tired  of  romping 
together,  he  would  sit  down  on  some  green  knoll  while  they 
climbed  about  him,  and  tell  them  the  tale,  of  which  they  never 
grew  weary,  of  his  night  on  the  Catskills. 

None  of  you  who  read  this  story  are  old  enough  to  remem- 
ber the  wonderful  American  actor  Jefferson,  who  played  Rip 
van  Winkle  till  he  grew  at  last  to  feel  he  was  more  Rip  van 
Winkle  than  Jefferson.  But  those  who  did  see  him  act  it 
will  never  forget  it,  nor  his  burst  of  despair  when  he  came 
home,  to  be  repudiated  and  denied  by  everyone. 


THE  WONDERFUL  BASKET 

THERE  was  once  a  time  when  young  women  of  the  Tlingit 
tribe  were  not  allowed  to  eat  between  their  meals,  but  in  spite 
of  this  rule  which  they  knew  very  well,  two  girls  belonging 
to  one  of  the  noblest  families  one  day  being  very  hungry 
took  some  food.  Of  course,  they  did  not  tell  anybody,  but 
their  mother,  who  looked  after  the  food-box  found  it  out  and 
was  very  angry. 

'  What  do  you  mean  by  behaving  like  that  ?  '  she  asked 
her  eldest  daughter,  shaking  her  violently  while  she  spoke. 
'  It  is  not  right  that  a  big  girl  like  you  should  do  such  things. 
I  am  ashamed  of  you  !  As  you  are  so  fond  of  eating,  you  had 
better  go  and  marry  Mountain  Dweller.  You  will  get  plenty 
of  food  from  him.'  -But  though  the  mother  did  not  scold  her 
other  daughter  who  was  still  quite  little,  the  child  did  not 
like  her  sister  to  be  slapped  and  scratched.  The  sister  did  not 
like  it  either  ;  so  that  night  the  two  girls  crept  softly  out  of 
the  house  and  ran  away  to  the  forest. 

The  mother  was  surprised  next  morning  when  she  found 
no  signs  of  her  daughters,  but  she  thought  they  were  cross  or 
lazy,  and  had  stayed  in  bed  in  order  that  they  might  not 
have  to  do  any  work.  She  waited  a  little,  expecting  to  see 
them  every  moment,  and  as  they  did  not  come  she  called  out, 
*  Why  don't  you  get  up  ?  it  is  very  late.'  There  was  no  answer, 
so  she  went  to  their  room  to  discover  what  was  the  matter. 
Then  she  perceived  that  they  had  never  been  to  bed  at  all, 
and  felt  sorry  that  her  cross  words  the  day  before  had  driven 
them  away. 

The  first  thing  she  did  was  to  go  to  the  houses  of  some 
neighbours,  and  ask  if  they  knew  anything  of  her  daughters, 
63 


64  THE  WONDERFUL  BASKET 

and  if  they  had  been  playing  any  games  with  the  children. 
But  no  one  had  seen  them  ;  and  for  seven  days  the  mother 
wandered  from  one  place  to  another,  but  she  could  never  find 
any  trace  of  them. 

All  this  time  the  two  girls  were  walking  about  the  woods 
not  knowing  where  they  went,  and  looking  vainly  for  fruit  or 
berries,  as  they  were  very  hungry.  At  last  the  path  they  were 
following  led  upwards,  and  they  found  themselves  among 
the  mountains.  A  faint  sound  as  of  somebody  chopping 
wood  a  long  distance  off  reached  their  ears,  and  the  elder 
sister  said  to  herself,  '  I  wonder  if  that  is  the  man  that  mother 
was  talking  of.'  By  and  bye  the  sound  grew  clearer  and 
clearer,  and  on  turning  a  corner  they  came  upon  the  wood- 
cutter, with  his  face  painted  red,  standing  over  a  fallen  tree. 
As  the  girls  approached  he  looked  up  and  said  : 

'  What  are  you  two  doing  here  ?  ' 

'  Mother  was  unkind  to  us,'  answered  the  elder,  '  so  we 
came  away.' 

'  What  had  you  done  to  vex  her  ?  '  asked  the  man. 

'  We  had  eaten  some  food  between  our  meals,  and  she  said, 
"  If  you  are  so  fond  of  eating,  you  had  better  go  and  marry 
Mountain  Dweller."  ' 

'  Well,  come  into  my  house,'  said  Mountain  Dweller, 
for  it  was  he  who  was  chopping  the  wood,  and  they  went 
with  him  and  he  took  them  all  over  it,  and  very  fine  it  was. 
Last  of  all  he  led  them  into  a  store-house  full  of  dried  meat, 
salmon,  and  deer,  and  halibut.  They  gazed  at  it  hungrily, 
though  they  did  not  say  anything,  but  Mountain  Dweller  saw 
their  eyes  and  gave  them  food  which  they  gladly  ate ;  and 
they  slept  there  all  that  night,  as  they  did  not  know  where 
else  to  go. 

Next  morning  they  got  up  very  early  and  found  Mountain 
Dweller  making  ready  to  hunt,  drawing  on  his  leggings  and 
choosing  his  weapons. 

'  We  will  be  married  to-morrow,'  said  he,  '  but  to-day  I 
have  a  long  way  to  walk,  and  I  shall  not  be  back  till  nightfall. 
And  before  I  go,  I  want  to  warn  you  not  to  peep  behind  the 


THE  WONDERFUL  BASKET  66 

large  curtain  of  skins  hanging  over  that  door.  A  very  bad 
woman  lives  on  the  other  side,  and  she  does  not  like  anyone 
to  see  her.' 

'  No  ;  of  course  we  won't,'  answered  they,  and  Mountain 
Dweller  set  out. 

So  the  girls  stayed  in  the  house  all  day,  and  wondered  what 
their  friends  were  doing  in  the  village,  and  if  they  were  still 
seeking  them.  '  I  expect,'  said  the  elder,  '  they  think  we 
have  been  eaten  by  wolves,  and  are  mourning  for  us.  And 
mother  will  have  cut  off  her  hair,  and  painted  her  face  black.' 

'  Yes  ;  she  is  sure  to  have  done  that,'  answered  the  little 
girl ;  and  so  she  had. 

The  days  went  by  in  much  the  same  way,  except  that  the 
big  girl  was  now  married  to  Mountain  Dweller.  Every 
morning  he  went  out  to  hunt,  so  the  two  sisters  had  plenty 
to  eat,  and  if  they  wanted  any  food  between  meals,  they  took 
it.  They  were  quite  happy  until  one  unlucky  morning  when  it 
was  snowing  so  fast  they  could  not  leave  the  house,  and  at 
last  they  grew  weary,  and  longed  for  something  new. 

'  Who  can  the  woman  be  that  lives  behind  the  curtain  ?  ' 
said  the  elder  sister  at  last.  '  I  daresay  she  is  not  so  very  bad 
after  all,  and  perhaps  she  can  teach  us  some  fresh  games.  I 
have  noticed  that  there  is  a  little  hole  in  the  curtain  ;  I  will 
peep  through  that,  and  if  she  looks  kind  and  good-natured,  I 
will  go  in.' 

'  Yes ;  that  is  a  good  plan,'  answered  the  child,  and  they  both 
went  on  tiptoe  to  the  curtain. 

The  hole  was  very  small,  and  it  was  hardly  possible  that 
anyone  on  the  other  side  of  the  curtain  should  have  seen 
them  looking  through.  Yet  the  moment  that  the  wife  had 
fixed  her  eye  on  it,  the  woman  threw  up  her  hands  and 
screamed,  and  both  sisters  fell  down  dead ;  and  that  is  how 
Mountain  Dweller  found  them  when  he  returned  from  the  hunt. 

He  guessed  at  once  what  had  happened,  and  his  anger 
was  so  great  that  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to  run  behind  the 
curtain  and  kill  the  bad  woman  who  lived  there.  Then  he  took 
some  eagle-down  and  spread  it  over  the  girls'  bodies,  and  walked 


66  THE  WONDERFUL  BASKET 

round  them  many  times,  shaking  his  rattle  all  the  while. 
At  length  slight  shivers  passed  through  their  limbs ;  the 
colour  came  back  into  their  faces,  and  there  they  stood  on 
their  feet,  as  well  as  ever  they  were. 

When  they  had  been  in  the  mountain  for  many,  many 
months,  Mountain  Dweller  said  one  day  to  his  wife  : 

'  Would  you  not  like  to  see  your  father  and  mother  once 


more 


'  Oh,  yes,  yes  ! '  cried  both  the  girls  at  once. 

'  Well,  you  shall,'  said  he  ;  '  but  first  I  must  go  to  hunt  and 
prepare  a  gift  for  them.  So  make  me  a  little  basket,  just 
big  enough  to  put  your  finger  in.' 

'  That  won't  take  long,'  laughed  she,  and  on  his  return  in 
the  evening  the  basket  was  ready.  But  this  basket  was  not 
like  other  baskets,  for  when  the  husband  shook  it,  it  grew 
large  enough  to  hold  all  kinds  of  meat  and  bags  of  tallow, 
and  when  he  shook  it  again,  it  shrunk — and  the  meat  also. 

At  dawn  the  next  day  the  girls  started  and  carried  the 
basket  to  their  father's. house.  It  was  evening  before  they 
arrived,  and  the  first  person  who  saw  them  approaching  was 
their  little  brother,  who  ran  in,  crying,  '  Mother,  my  sisters 
are  there.' 

'  Nonsense  !  '  she  answered  angrily.  '  Why  do  you  say 
such  things  ?  They  have  been  dead  this  many  a  long  day.' 

'  They  are  my  sisters,'  shouted  he.  '  Do  you  suppose  I 
don't  know  them  ?  ' 

'  Well,  let  me  see  the  hair  from  their  marten-skin  robes,' 
she  replied,  still  unbelieving,  for  she  remembered  that  her 
daughters  had  marten-skin  robes,  such  as  only  the  chief 
families  were  allowed  to  wear.  Then  the  boy  went  and  spoke 
to  his  sisters,  and  pulled  little  pieces  of  the  fur  out.  As  soon 
as  she  saw  the  fur,  the  mother  believed,  and  she  and  her 
husband  and  their  kinsfolk  went  forth  to  meet  the  lost  girls, 
weeping  for  joy  at  having  found  them  again. 

The  next  day  the  big  girl  said  to  her  mother,  '  There  is  a 
little  basket  in  the  woods,  filled  with  meat.  Let  it  be  fetched.' 
So  several  people  went  to  fetch  it,  but  returned,  saying  it 


THE  WONDERFUL  BASKET  67 

was  so  large  that  all  of  them  put  together  could  not 
bring  it  in. 

'  I  will  go  and  see  about  it,'  answered  the  girl,  and  she 
made  it  small  so  that  she  could  easily  carry  it,  but  as  soon  as 
she  laid  it  down  in  the  house,  it  became  as  large  as  ever.  She 
knelt  on  the  floor  and  unpacked  the  basket,  and  the  house 
could  hardly  contain  all  that  was  in  it ;  and  the  village  people 
came  and  feasted  likewise.  Only  the  mother  ate  so  much  that 
she  grew  very  ill,  and  never  got  any  better. 

To  this  day  luck  befalls  every  man  who  hears  Mountain 
Dweller  chopping  the  wood. 


F2 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  THE  GALLEY-SLAVES 

IN  the  year  1563  the  '  Three  Half  Moons,'  with  thirty  men  on 
board,  set  sail  from  Portsmouth  for  the  south  of  Spain,  in- 
tending to  sell  their  goods  to  merchants  in  the  town  of  Seville, 
situated  on  the  river  Guadalquivir.  The  wind  was  behind 
them  and  they  had  a  prosperous  voyage  till  they  near  the 
Straits  of  Gibraltar,  when  eight  Turkish  ships  suddenly 
hove  in  sight,  and  surrounded  the  '  Three  Half  Moons.' 

Of  course,  no  vessel  ever  entered  the  Mediterranean, 
which  in  those  days  was  alive  with  pirates,  without  being 
fully  armed,  and  every  man  was  a  fighter.  So  when  the 
captain  of  the  '  Three  Half  Moons '  beheld  the  flag  with  the 
crescent  flying  at  the  masthead  of  each  galley,  he  ordered 
the  trumpets  and  drums  to  be  beaten,  and  served  out  swords 
and  ammunition  to  the  crew.  This  done,  John  Fox  the 
gunner  moved  his  cannon  into  position  and  sent  a  shower  of 
bullets  at  the  Turks. 

The  enemy  however  either  had  better  artillery  or  were  in 
greater  practice  than  the  English  men,  for  they  loaded  at 
least  three  times  as  quickly,  coming  up  as  they  did  so  to 
closed  quarters,  so  that  the  crew  were  forced  to  take  to  their 
bows.  Their  aim  was  deadly  and  soon  many  of  the  Turks 
had  fallen  upon  their  decks,  but  again  their  more  rapid  firing 
told,  and  soon  there  were  signs  that  the  '  Three  Half  Moons ' 
was  filling  with  water  from  the 'holes  pierced  in  her  side. 
Then  the  Turks  left  their  own  galleys  and  tried  to  board 
her  before  she  sank.  Bows  and  cannon  were  alike  useless 
now,  so  the  English  seized  their  pikes  and  swords,  and  fought 
hand  to  hand  till  they  were  overborne  by  the  number  of  the 
enemy.  At  length  they  could  resist  no  longer  ;  their  weapons 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  THE  GALLEY-SLAVES         69 

were  taken  from  them,  and  those  who  were  left  alive  were 
sent,  as  prisoners  of  war  usually  were,  to  work  at  the  oars  of 
the  galley.  This  was  a  fate  dreaded  by  all  from  nearly  the 
beginnings  of  history.  The  unfortunate  slaves  were  generally 
chained  together  on  benches  in  a  stifling,  dark  place,  where 
they  could  hardly  breathe  :  their  food  was  scanty  and  often 
bad,  and  if  from  exhaustion  any  man  showed  symptoms  of 
flagging,  an  overseer  was  at  hand  to  flog  him  into  greater 
vigour.  Should  the  ship  sink,  as  often  happened,  the  heavy 
chains  deprived  the  unhappy  slaves  of  any  chance  of  escaping 
death. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  Turks  to  lay  up  their  galleys  during 
the  whiter  in  a  harbour  near  the  town  of  Alexandria,  and  to 
throw  all  their  prisoners  and  galley-slaves  into  gaol,  with 
irons  on  their  legs.  The  crew  of  the  '  Three  Half  Moons  '  were 
thrust  into  dungeons  like  the  rest,  but  before  very  long  the 
captain  and  the  owner  of  the  ship,  who  had  sailed  with  them, 
were  ransomed  by  their  friends. 

Thankful  though  they  were  to  be  free  again,  they  suffered 
terrible  pain  at  leaving  their  companions  to  so  many  and 
great  miseries,  and  they  could  only  falter  out  a  few  broken 
words  about  doing  their  best  to  collect  money  at  home  to 
deliver  them  also.  The  prisoners  sighed  and  did  not  answer  : 
they  knew  too  well  the  worth  of  promises  such  as  these. 

Their  daily  allowance  of  food  in  the  prison  was  no  greater 
than  it  had  been  on  the  galleys,  and  they  were  all  more  than 
half  starved.  Yet  their  plight  would  have  been  even  worse 
than  it  was,  had  not  John  Fox  the  gunner  possessed  unusual 
skill  as  a  barber,  which  somehow  became  known,  and  the 
officials  about  the  gaol  and  harbour  would  send  for  him  to 
shave  them  and  cut  their  hair.  With  the  money  thus  earned,  he 
bought  good  food  for  his  mates  and  himself.  After  a  while,  he 
and  certain  of  his  companions  were  allowed  by  the  keeper  to 
go  out  for  the  day  and  make  what  they  could,  a  regular  part 
of  their  earnings  being  paid  to  the  gaoler.  As  they  were 
obliged  to  report  themselves  at  night  and  always  kept  the  irons 
on  their  legs,  there  was  not  much  fear  of  their  running  away. 


70         THE  ESCAPE  OF  THE  0 ALLEY-SLAVES 

In  the  winter  of  1577,  when  the  crew  of  the  '  Three  Half 
Moons  '  had  reached  the  fourteenth  year  of  their  captivity,  the 
galleys  were  dismantled  of  their  masts  and  sails,  and  laid  up 
in  harbour  till  the  spring.  The  captains  and  sailors,  having 
nothing  more  to  do,  returned  to  their  own  homes  ;  and  the 
prisoners,  amounting  in  all  to  two  hundred  and  sixty- eight 
Christians  belonging  to  sixteen  different  nations,  were  marched 
back  to  the  prison. 

Not  far  from  the  harbour  was  an  eating-house  kept  by  one 
Unticaro,  a  Spaniard,  who  since  he  had  been  thirty  years  a 
captive  without  once  attempting  to  escape  was  permitted 
certain  privileges.  With  him,  John  Fox  had  long  ago  made 
friends,  and  it  was  of  this  man  he  now  asked  advice  as  to 
his  best  plan  of  running  away,  because  Fox  had  determined 
that,  even  if  he  died  for  it,  he  would  stay  there  no  longer. 
Unticaro  had  lacked  the  courage  to  move  on  his  own  account, 
but  fired  by  Fox,  readily  agreed  to  risk  his  own  life  also.  Six 
of  the  other  prisoners  whom  they  could  trust  were  let  into 
the  secret,  and  they  swore  they  would  stand  or  fall  together. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  was,  of  course,  to  get  rid  of 
their  chains,  so  Fox  distributed  files  among  them,  with  orders 
to  have  their  irons  off  their  legs  by  eight  o'clock  the  next 
night.  They  had  by  this  time  been  imprisoned  for  so 
many  years,  and  the  gaoler  had  got  so  accustomed  to  seeing 
them  about,  that  so  long  as  they  were  all  there  when  he  locked 
up,  he  did  not  trouble  himself  further. 

On  the  evening  of  the  following  day,  January  1,  1578,  the 
six  captives  accompanied  by  John  Fox  met  at  Unticaro's 
eating-house,  pretending  to  be  in  high  spirits  so  that  nobody 
who  dropped  in  should  guess  that  anything  serious  was  on 
hand.  When  eight  o'clock  struck,  Fox  sent  Unticaro  to  the 
master  of  the  harbour,  with  a  message  professing  to  come 
from  one  of  the  city  officials,  a  friend  of  the  gaolers.  Unticaro 
seems  to  have  persuaded  the  gaoler  to  go  with  him,  and  the 
two  set  out,  injunctions  being  given  to  the  warders  not  to  bar 
the  gate  till  his  return,  as  he  should  not  be  absent  long. 
No  sooner  had  they  departed,  than  the  other  men  began  to 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  THE  GALLEY-SLAVES      71 

search  Unticaro's  house  for  the  various  weapons  which  he  had 
hidden  there.  These  all  proved  to  be  old,  and  there  was  only 
one  sword  among  them  which  Fox  took,  and,  grasping  the 
hilt,  he  concealed  himself  round  the  corner  of  the  house  and 
awaited  the  gaoler. 

The  man  was  not  long  in  coming,  and  when  he  saw  the 
house  in  total  darkness  he  instantly  suspected  that  something 
was  the  matter.  Stepping  back  from  the  door  in  order  to 
make  sure  that  he  might  not  be  taken  by  surprise,  he  perceived 
Fox  standing  in  the  shadow,  and  cried  '  0  Fox,  what  have  I 
deserved  of  thee  that  thou  shouldst  seek  my  death  ?  ' 

'  Thou  villain  ! '  answered  Fox,  '  thou  hast  sucked  many 
a  Christian's  blood,  and  now  thou  shalt  know  what  thou  hast 
deserved  at  my  hands,'  and  he  lifted  his  sword  and  struck  the 
keeper  such  a  blow  that  he  fell  stark  dead  to  the  ground. 

Leaving  the  body,  the  men  went  down  to  the  place  where 
the  six  warders  were  waiting. 

'  Who  goes  there  ?  '  asked  one,  and  Fox  replied  : 

'  All  friends,'  which,  says  the  chronicler,  '  when  they 
were  in,  proved  contrary,'  for  the  prisoners  fell  upon  the 
gaolers  and  soon  dispatched  them  all.  Then  Fox  barred  the 
gate  and  dragged  a  gun  against  it,  for  he  had  work  to  do 
inside. 

In  the  gaoler's  lodge,  which  appears  to  have  been  empty, 
they  found  the  prison  keys  and  a  number  of  weapons  much 
better  than  those  they  had  brought  with  them.  There  was 
also  a  chest  containing  money  which  they  would  certainly 
need,  if  they  managed  to  escape  from  the  town.  John  Fox, 
however,  declined  to  touch  any  of  it,  but  Unticaro  and  two 
others  were  not  so  scrupulous,  and  stuffed  as  many  golden 
ducats  into  their  clothes  as  they  could  contrive  to  stow  away. 
After  this  was  done  Fox  bade  them  follow  him  into  the  prison, 
unlocking  the  doors  with  the  gaoler's  keys,  and  slaying  the 
warders  in  charge.  The  prisoners,  thus  set  free,  were  put  by 
him  to  different  tasks,  the  greater  number  being  ordered  to 
seize  a  galley  lying  at  the  prison  end  of  the  harbour,  while  the 
others  carried  down  to  it  the  mast  and  the  sails  and  oars  which 
had  been  stored  up  in  the  prison.  Although  most  of  the 


72        THE  ESCAPE  OF  THE  GALLEY-SLAVES 

warders  had  been  killed,  eight  of  them  had  taken  refuge  in 
the  roof  of  the  prison,  and  in  order  to  come  at  them  the 
conspirators  had  to  place  ladders  against  the  walls.  The  fight- 
ing was  hot,  and  Fox  received  three  shots  in  his  clothes, 
while  Unticaro  and  the  two  men  who  had  taken  the  ducats 
were  killed  outright,  which  Fox  considered  a  judgment  upon 
them,  for  taking  what  did  not  belong  to  them. 

All  seemed  going  well,  when  a  wounded  Turk  fell  outside 
the  prison  wall,  and  '  made  such  a  lowing  '  or  bellowing,  that 
he  was  heard  by  the  people  who  lived  in  one  or  two  scattered 
houses  about.  They  instantly  gave  the  alarm,  and  the 
prisoners  fighting  for  their  freedom  felt  as  if  the  way  of 
escape  was  barred  to  them.  For  at  each  end  of  the  harbour 
was  a  fortress,  while  the  city  of  Alexandria  lay  behind.  Yet, 
such  good  use  had  the  men  made  of  the  start  they  had  had  in 
getting  ready  the  galley  that  before  another  ship  could  put 
to  sea  they  were  all  on  board,  and  had  passed  in  safety  the 
guns  of  the  two  forts,  gaining  the  open  water. 

Once  fairly  away,  they  looked  back  to  be  sure  that  none 
of  the  Turkish  vessels  were  likely  to  catch  them  up.  The 
shores  of  the  harbour  were  black  with  people,  '  in  companies 
like  unto  swarms  of  bees,  bustling  themselves  to  dress  up  the 
galleys.'  But  this  was  not  so  easy,  as  the  whole  of  the  fittings 
were  locked  up  in  the  town.  So  the  Christians  breathed  again, 
and,  falling  on  then-  knees,  gave  thanks  for  their  deliverance. 

But  the  danger  was  by  no  means  over,  the  wind  was  con- 
stantly shifting,  and  they  did  not  know  how  to  shape  their 
course  ;  and  worse  than  that,  the  few  provisions,  which  in  their 
haste  they  had  been  able  to  bring,  were  soon  exhausted.  In 
twenty-eight  days,  eight  persons  died  of  starvation,  just  before 
they  made  the  port  of  Gallipoli  in  the  island  of  Candia.  Here 
they  were  welcomed  by  the  abbot  and  the  monks,  who  bade 
them  stay  till  they  were  strong  again,  and  thankful  the  fugitives 
were  for  their  rest.  After  a  while  they  took  ship,  and  reached 
the  harbour  of  Taranto  in  south  Italy  without  further  adven- 
ture, and  there  by  order  of  Fox  the  galley  was  sold  and  the 
price  divided  equally  among  the  men.  Together  they  marched 
to  Naples  where  they  parted,  every  man  going  to  his  own 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  THE  GALLEY-SLAVES        73 

country,  Fox  himself  journeying  to  Rome.  The  Pope  granted 
him  a  private  interview,  and  bestowed  a  large  sum  of  money 
on  him,  while  the  King  of  Spain  pensioned  him  on  twenty 
pence  a  day,  which  in  those  times  meant  a  great  deal  more 
than  it  does  now.  The  Ministers  of  Queen  Elizabeth  were  not 
behind  the  rest,  and,  when  Fox  returned  to  England  in  1579, 
'  extended  to  him  their  liberality  to  maintain  him  in  his  age, 
to  the  great  encouragement  of  all  Christians.' 


THE  BEAVER  AND  THE  PORCUPINE 

.  ONCE  upon  a  time  there  lived  in  the  North  West  of  America  a 
beaver  and  a  porcupine,  who  were  great  friends  ;  and,  as  often 
happens,  they  loved  each  other  all  the  better  because  they 
were  so  different.  To  begin  with,  the  porcupine  as  no  doubt 
you  know  is  stuck  over  like  a  pin-cushion  with  long  prickly 
quills,  while  the  beaver  is  smooth-haired.  Then  the  beaver 
had  his  house  in  the  middle  of  a  great  lake,  and  the  porcupine 
much  preferred  to  dwell  on  land  among  the  mountains,  and  if 
the  beaver  had  not  been  able  to  swim,  the  two  would  never 
have  met  at  all. 

Now  the  beaver  was  often  to  be  seen  at  the  door  of  the 
porcupine's  house,  and  was  continually  urging  him  to  return 
the  visit ;  but  so  far  the  porcupine  had  always  refused. 

'  How  can  I  ?  '  he  would  ask.  '  You  know  quite  well  that 
in  a  moment  I  should  have  swallowed  so  much  water  that  my 
body  would  sink  to  the  bottom,  and  I  should  never  come  up 
again.  No,  no  !  it  is  impossible — totally  impossible — sorry 
as  I  am  to  give  up  the  pleasure  of  seeing  all  the  wonderful 
things  you  have  told  me  of.'  And  try  as  he  might,  the  beaver 
never  could  get  another  answer. 

But  one  day  he  thought  of  a  very  clever  plan,  and  he  lost  no 
time  in  putting  it  into  practice.  He  had  noticed  from  his 
house  that  the  porcupine  was  sitting  on  the  shore,  enjoying  the 
sun,  so  he  instantly  set  off  to  swim  to  him. 

'  You  are  coming  to  see  my  house  this  minute,'  said  he. 

'  To  see  your  house  ?  '  repeated  the  porcupine  in  amaze- 
ment ;  '  but  how  am  I  to  do  that  ?  I  have  told  you  a  hundred 
times  I  should  be  drowned  before  I  had  gone  ten  yards.' 

'  Oh,  no,  you  wouldn't ! '  replied  the  beaver, '  for  I  am  going 
74 


THE  BEAVER  AND  THE  PORCUPINE          75 

to  carry  you.  Be  quick  and  get  on  my  back,  and  hold  fast 
round  my  neck.' 

'  But  I  shall  die  !    I  know  I  shall !  ' 

'  I  tell  you,  you  won't  die.  I  will  take  care  of  that !  Oh, 
don't  be  such  a  coward  !  '  And  at  length,  very  slowly,  the 
porcupine  climbed  up  and  seated  himself. 

'  Hold  tight  round  my  neck,'  said  the  beaver  again  ;  '  I 
am  just  going  to  start.'  But  he  need  not  have  troubled  to 
give  that  advice,  for  the  porcupine's  grasp  nearly  choked  him. 
Still,  so  long  as  the  beaver  kept  on  the  surface,  the  porcupine 
really  had  nothing  to  complain  of  ;  but  when  he  dived  as  he 
did  once  or  twice,  the  water  got  into  the  rider's  eyes  and  nose 
and  down  his  throat,  and  almost  suffocated  him. 

No  words  could  tell  how  thankful  he  was  to  reach  the 
beaver's  house,  but  he  could  not  think  how  he  should  ever  have 
the  courage  to  make  that  dreadful  journey  a  second  time. 

'  You  seem  tired  ;  you  must  have  something  to  eat,'  said 
the  beaver  as  the  porcupine  lay  down  feebly  on  his  side. 
The  porcupine  was  very  glad  to  hear  that,  for  he  was  certainly 
hungry  ;  but  great  was  his  disappointment  when  the  beaver 
took  out  of  a  hole  a  bundle  of  sticks  and  placed  them  before  his 
guest. 

'  They  are  quite  young  twigs — you  will  find  them  very 
good,'  said  he,  and  the  poor  porcupine  did  not  know  how  to 
refuse,  and  ate  them  silently  and  without  making  more  faces 
than  he  could  help,  for  he  did  not  like  them  at  all. 

Next  morning,  when  the  porcupine  awoke,  the  beaver 
was  standing  by  him. 

'  Let  us  have  a  game,  friend,'  he  cried  ;  '  I  know  ever  so 
many  !  ' 

'  What  sort  of  game  is  it  ?  '  asked  the  porcupine,  and  the 
beaver  answered  :  '  You  shall  get  on  my  back,  and  put  your 
nose  well  down  on  the  nape  of  my  neck,  and  four  times  will  I 
dive  to  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  and  four  times  will  I  come  up  ! ' 

This  did  not  sound  a  very  good  game  to  the  porcupine, 
and  he  would  have  preferred  something  quite  different,  but 
he  did  not  like  to  be  rude  or  ill-natured,  so  he  agreed  to  play  it. 


76          THE  BEAVER  AND  THE  PORCUPINE 

But  when  it  came  to  the  point,  the  game  proved  even  worse 
than  he  thought,  for  before  the  beaver  started  he  splashed 
about  with  his  tail,  and  filled  the  porcupine's  eyes  and  nose 
with  water  ;  and  not  content  with  that  he  stayed  below  at  each 
dive  so  very  long  that,  when  they  rose  to  the  surface  for  the 
fourth  time,  the  porcupine  was  nearly  dead. 

'  I  will  take  you  home  now,'  said  the  beaver  ;  '  I  have 
enjoyed  my  game  so  much.' 

No  sooner  had  the  porcupine  touched  dry  land  than  he 
went  up  to  join  his  tribe,  and  bade  them  come  to  a  feast 
in  his  house.  As  soon  as  they  were  all  assembled  he  told 
them  of  the  terrible  sufferings  he  had  gone  through  at  the 
hands  of  the  beaver,  whom  he  had  always  looked  on  as  a 
friend,  though  he  could  do  so  no  more. 

'  He  really  almost  killed  me,'  he  said  mournfully ;  and 
his  guests  replied  smilingly,  '  Well,  invite  him  to  come  and 
play  with  you.'' 

The  porcupine  was  well  pleased  with  their  words,  and 
next  day  sent  a  message  to  the  beaver,  begging  for  the  honour 
of  a  visit  as  early  as  possible.  The  beaver  lost  no  time  in 
setting  out,  and  the  porcupine  who  was  keeping  watch  soon 
saw  him  coming  up  the  valley. 

'  Come  in  !  come  in  ! '  cried  he,  and  gave  the  fire  a  switch 
with  his  tail,  so  that  some  sparks  flew  right  into  the  eyes  of  the 
guest.  '  Do  you  feel  inclined  for  some  food  ?  '  inquired  the 
porcupine  ;  '  you  have  had  a  long  walk  and  I  am  sure  you 
must  be  hungry.' 

'  Thank  you,  I  should  like  some,'  replied  the  beaver  ;  but 
he  did  not  fancy  the  bark  and  pine  needles  that  the  porcupine 
placed  before  him.  However,  the  porcupine  did  not  seem  to 
notice  his  guest's  unwillingness,  and  only  said  : 

'  Eat  a  little  faster,  my  friend,  for  I  am  longing  to  have 
a  game  with  you ' ;  so  the  beaver  was  forced  to  swallow  some 
of  the  bark,  which  he  did  not  like  any  better  than  the  porcupine 
had  liked  the  twigs. 

'  What  game  is  it,  and  where  do  you  play  ? '  he  asked  when 
he  had  finished. 


THE  BEAVER  AND  THE  PORCUPINE  77 

'  Do  you  see  that  tree  on  the  slope  over  there  ?  That 
is  my  play -ground.  But,  perhaps,  as  it  is  getting  late  and  you 
may  be  tired,  it  would  be  as  well  to  put  it  off  till  to-morrow. 
I  will  show  you  where  you  are  to  sleep.'  And  as  they  walked 
along,  the  porcupine  said  something  to  the  sky  and  the  clouds 
vanished,  and  in  the  morning  the  ground  was  covered  with  ice. 

The  following  day  he  told  the  beaver  he  had  prepared 
another  feast  for  him,  but  as  it  was  just  like  the  last,  the 
beaver  would  rather  have  been  without  it. 

'  I  have  finished  now,'  he  observed  as  soon  as  he  could,  and 
the  porcupine  answered  : 

'  Very  well ;  now  we  will  go  out  to  play.' 

So  the  two  went  down  towards  the  slope  and  came  to  a 
frozen  stream  which  had  to  be  crossed.  The  porcupine  easily 
got  over  with  his  long  claws,  but  the  beaver's  feet  were 
smooth,  and  had  nothing  to  hold  on  with,  thus  he  slid  from 
one  side  to  the  other  and  was  very  uncomfortable. 

'  Come  along,'  said  the  porcupine,  'it  is  all  right' ;  but  the 
beaver  could  not  '  come  along,'  and  at  last  the  porcupine  had 
to  go  back  and  take  him  by  the  hand  and  lead  him  over. 

'  Now  you  will  be  able  to  walk,'  remarked  the  porcupine, 
and  they  went  on  to  the  place  where  the  tree  was  standing. 

'  Here  we  are  !  '  said  the  porcupine,  stopping  beneath  it. 

'  But  what  is  the  game  ?  '  asked  the  beaver. 

'  Oh,  you  have  to  climb  this  tree.' 

'  But  I  have  never  climbed  a  tree  in  my  life,'  replied  the 
beaver  anxiously.  '  How  do  you  begin  ?  ' 

'  I  will  go  first,  and  you  have  only  to  watch  me  and  see  how 
I  do  it,'  answered  the  porcupine,  and  he  climbed  and  climbed 
till  he  reached  the  very  top  of  the  tree.  Then  he  let  go  the 
branch  he  was  on,  and  dropped  straight  to  the  ground. 

'  There,  it  is  not  very  difficult,'  he  said  to  the  beaver ;  '  but 
as  you  are  not  used  to  climbing  I  will  take  you  up  on  my  back, 
and  you  can  come  down  by  yourself.  Be  sure  you  cling  tight 
round  my  neck.'  And  the  beaver  did — very  tight  indeed. 

It  took  them  some  time  to  reach  the  top  of  the  tree  and 
then  the  porcupine  put  the  beaver  on  to  a  branch.  But  the 


78          THE  BEAVER  AND  THE  PORCUPINE 

beaver  was  not  much  more  comfortable  than  when  he  was 
crossing  the  ice,  for  his  smooth  hands  could  not  dig  into  the 
bark  like  the  porcupine's  claws. 

'  Hold  fast  to  the  tree,  and  I  will  go  down  first,'  said 
the  porcupine,  and  as  he  spoke  he  let  the  branch  go,  and  fell 
down  to  the  earth.  Then  he  got  up,  and  ran  about  at  the 
foot  of  the  tree,  watching  the  beaver  who  was  still  on  his 
branch,  too  frightened  to  move. 

'  Oh,  don't  be  afraid  !  Look  at  me  !  I  am  alive  as  you 
see,'  so  at  last  the  beaver  let  go  as  the  porcupine  bade  him. 
But  he  did  not  know  the  proper  way  to  fall  as  the  porcupine 
did,  and  his  head  struck  on  a  rock,  and  the  blow  killed  him. 

Then  the  porcupine  went  home. 

[TsimsUan  Texts,  by  Franz  Boas.] 


« 


AN  OLD-WORLD  GHOST 

CHILDREN  are  often  inclined  to  think  that  the  nations  who 
ruled  the  world  long,  long  ago,  were  quite  unlike  ourselves, 
and  always  busy  with  very  serious  things,  such  as  the 
passing  of  laws  or  fighting.  It  is  quite  a  surprise  sometimes 
to  learn  that  they  really  shared  our  f  eelings  on  a  whole  quantity 
of  subjects,  and  even,  as  this  story  will  show,  were  quite  as 
much  afraid  of  ghosts  or  haunted  houses  as  anybody  in  these 
days  could  be.  It  is  told  by  a  famous  Roman  citizen  called 
Pliny,  who  was  born  near  Lake  Como  in  the  reign  of  the 
Emperor  Nero. 

There  was,  he  says,  at  that  time  a  large  and  comfortable 
house  in  a  good  part  of  the  town  of  Athens  which,  to  the 
astonishment  of  everybody,  stood  empty  for  many  years.  It 
seemed  odd  that  so  fine  a  building  should  remain  so  long  un- 
occupied, and  at  length  one  man  more  curious  than  the  rest 
asked  his  host  when  at  a  small  dinnerparty  if  he  could  explain 
the  reason.  The  tale  he  heard  from  the  Athenian  noble  was  a 
marvellous  one,  and  the  guest  shuddered  as  he  listened,  for 
though  he  was  bold  enough  in  the  field  of  battle,  he  trembled 
in  the  presence  of  that  which  he  did  not  understand. 

Once  the  house  had  been  filled  with  a  gay  family  ;  music 
had  floated  through  the  garden,  children  had  played  at  knuckle 
bones  in  the  hall,  and  young  men  had  thrown  discs  in  the 
courts.  But  gradually  sounds  of  laughter  grew  more  rare 
and  the  dwellers  in  the  house  fell  ill  of  mysterious  maladies, 
till  at  lar .t  the  few  that  were  left  departed  for  another  place, 
hoping  amidst  new  surroundings  to  shake  off  the  gloom  which 
possessed  them.  For  a  while  none  dared  ask  why  the  home 
of  their  fathers  had  been  thus  forsaken  ;  but  little  by  little 
79 


80  AN  OLD-WORLD  GHOST 

whispers  of  the  truth  got  abroad,  and  it  was  noticed  that 
men  turned  down  another  street  sooner  than  pass  the  empty 
mansion. 

A  little  girl  was  the  first  to  hear  the  noise  and  sat  up  straight 
in  her  bed  with  wide-open  eyes  peering  into  the  darkness,  too 
frightened  even  to  call  to  her  slave,  as  a  sound  like  the  clanking 
of  chains  struck  upon  her  ear.  It  seemed  to  come  from  very  far 
off ;  but  soon,  to  the  child's  wild  terror,  it  drew  closer  and  closer, 
till  she  expected  every  moment  to  feel  the  touch  of  the  cold 
iron  on  her  cheek.  Then,  to  her  immense  relief,  it  became 
fainter,  and  went  farther  and  farther  away,  by  and  bye  dying 
out  altogether. 

Such  was  the  tale  the  little  girl  told  to  her  mother  in  the 
morning,  and  very  shortly  there  was  not  a  person  in  the  house 
who  had  not  been  roused  by  the  mysterious  noise.  For  a 
time  this  was  all  that  happened,  and  though  it  was  bad  enough, 
perhaps  it  might  have  been  borne ;  but  there  was  worse  to 
come.  One  night  the  form  of  an  old  man  appeared,  so  thin 
you  could  almost  see  his  bones,  his  hair  standing  up  like 
bristles,  and  a  white  beard  flowing  to  his  waist.  On  his 
wrists  and  ankles  were  iron  chains,  which  shook  as  he  moved. 
Henceforward  there  was  no  sleep  for  any  of  the  household  ; 
their  days  were  passed  in  dread  of  the  nights,  and  one  by  one 
they  fell  a  prey  to  their  terrors.  At  length  there  came  a  time 
when  the  living  skeletons  could  endure  it  no  longer  and  fled, 
leaving  the  ghost  behind  them.  Such  was  the  tale  told  to  the 
guest,  but  the  end  was  yet  to  come. 

Years  passed  by,  and  the  survivors  began  gradually  to 
recover  their  health  and  spirits,  and  wondered  if  things  had 
really  been  so  bad  as  they  had  thought,  and  if  some  stranger, 
ignorant  of  the  story,  might  not  be  persuaded  to  take  the  house 
if  the  rent  was  made  low  enough.  So  a  notice  was  put  up  in 
a  public  place,  offering  the  mansion  for  sale  or  hire,  and  one  of 
the  first  to  read  it  happened  to  be  Athenodorus  the  philosopher, 
who  had  arrived  on  a  visit  to  Athens.  He  knew  nothing  of 
the  evil  reputation  which  belonged  to  the  house,  but  the  low 
price  asked  aroused  his  suspicions,  and  he  at  once  inquired  why 
so  fine  a  dwelling  should  be  offered  for  so  little.  With  some 


AN  OLD-WORLD  GHOST  83 

difficulty  he  managed  to  piece  together  the  true  story,  and 
when  he  heard  it,  instantly  took  the  house,  resolved  to  find 
out  if  possible  the  secret  of  the  ghost. 

As  it  grew  dark,  he  bade  his  slave  carry  a  couch  for  him  to 
the  front  part  of  the  mansion,  and  place  a  lamp  and  writing 
materials  on  a  table  near  it.  He  afterwards  dismissed  the 
slaves  to  their  own  quarters,  and  turned  his  whole  attention 
to  the  book  he  happened  to  be  writing,  so  that  he  might  not 
from  idleness  fancy  he  saw  or  heard  all  sorts  of  things  which 
were  not  there.  For  a  little  while  he  worked  amidst  dead 
silence  ;  then  a  faint  sound  as  of  the  clanking  of  chains  smote 
on  his  ears,  always  coming  nearer  and  nearer,  and  growing 
louder  and  louder.  But  Athenodorus,  as  became  a  philosopher, 
was  master  of  himself,  even  at  this  moment.  He  gave  no  sign 
of  having  heard  anything  out  of  the  common,  and  his  sharp- 
pointed  instrument  never  faltered  for  an  instant  in  drawing 
the  words  on  the  waxen  tablet.  In  a  few  seconds  the  noise 
reached  the  door  ;  next,  it  was  within  the  door  and  coming 
down  the  room.  At  last  Athenodorus  did  lift  his  head 
and  beheld  the  figure  he  had  been  told  of  standing  close 
to  him,  and  signalling  with  his  finger.  In  reply  the 
philosopher  wraved  his  hand,  begging  the  ghost  to  wait 
until  he  had  finished  the  sentence  he  was  writing,  and  this 
he  succeeded  in  doing  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  figure 
incessantly  rattled  the  chains  close  to  his  ears.  Athenodorus, 
however,  would  not  hurry  himself,  and  wrote  on  deliberately. 
Then  he  laid  down  his  stylus  and  looked  round.  The  ghost 
was  again  beckoning  to  him,  so  he  took  up  the  lamp  and 
motioned  the  figure  to  go  before  him.  With  a  slow  step,  as 
of  one  who  carries  a  heavy  weight  on  his  feet,  the  old  man 
walked  through  the  house  as  far  as  the  courtyard,  where  he 
vanished  quite  suddenly  ;  nor  could  the  philosopher  discover 
the  smallest  trace  of  him,  though  he  searched  every  corner 
carefully  by  the  aid  of  his  lamp.  As  it  was  now  night  and 
too  late  to  examine  further,  Athenodorus  made  a  little  heap  of 
leaves  and  grass  to  mark  the  spot  where  the  figure  disappeared, 
and  returned  to  his  couch  where  he  slept  peacefully  till  dawn. 

When  he  awoke  next  morning  he  at  once  visited  a  magistrate 

o  2 


84  AN  OLD-WORLD  GHOST 

of  the  city  and,  after  telling  his  story,  begged  that  some  men 
might  be  sent  to  dig  up  that  part  of  the  courtyard.  The 
magistrate  gave  the  order  without  delay,  and,  accompanied 
by  Athenodorus,  the  slaves  set  about  their  task.  A  few  feet 
from  the  surface  the  pickaxes  struck  upon  iron  and  the 
philosopher  drew  nearer,  for  he  felt  that  the  secret  of  the 
haunting  was  about  to  be  disclosed.  And  so  it  was,  for  there 
lay  a  heap  of  bones  with  chains  fastened  to  them. 

How  they  came  there,  how  long  they  had  been  there, 
whose  bones  they  were,  none  could  tell ;  but  they  were  collected 
in  a  box  and  buried  by  order  of  the  magistrate,  at  the  expense 
of  the  public.  This  seemed  to  satisfy  the  unquiet  spirit,  for 
the  house  was  henceforward  left  in  peace,  and  as  Athenodorus 
had  no  further  interest  in  the  matter  its  owners  were  free  to 
return  and  dwell  there,  which  they  gladly  did. 

[From  Pliny's  Letters.] 


THE  GENTLEMAN  HIGHWAYMAN 

FEW  people  can  have  crowded  more  occupations  into  a  life  of 
twenty-six  years  than  James  Maclean. 

His  father,  a  Scot  by  birth,  had  settled  in  the  Irish  county 
of  Monaghan,  where  the  position  of  minister  to  a  body  of 
dissenters  had  been  offered  him.  From  the  first  moment  of 
his  coming  amongst  them  Mr.  Maclean  was  much  liked  by  his 
congregation,  who  carried  all  their  troubles  to  him,  sure  that  if 
he  could  not  help  them,  he  would  at  least  give  them  advice 
and  sympathy,  and  there  was  not  one  of  them  who  did  not 
drink  his  health  with  his  whole  heart  when  the  minister  married 
the  daughter  of  a  gentleman  in  the  neighbourhood. 

More  than  twenty  years  passed  away  quietly  and  happily. 
The  Macleans  had  two  sons,  and  the  elder  one  early  showed  a 
wish  to  follow  his  father's  profession,  and,  at  an  age  when  most 
young  men  are  still  at  the  University,  received  a  '  call '  to  a 
Protestant  congregation  at  the  Hague. 

James,  the  younger,  was  educated  for  a  merchant,  and  as 
soon  as  he  was  eighteen  was  to  go  into  a  counting-house  and 
learn  his  business.  Unfortunately,  just  before  he  reached  the 
date  fixed,  his  father  died,  leaving  the  youth  his  own  master — 
for  as  no  mention  is  made  of  his  mother,  it  is  probable  she  \vas 
dead  also.  Without  consulting  anyone,  James  threw  up  the 
post  which  old  Maclean  had  taken  so  much  pains  to  get 
for  him,  and  withdrawing  the  money  left  him  by  the  will, 
from  the  bank,  spent  it  all  in  a  few  months  on  racing  and 
betting. 

Of  course  he  was  not  allowed  to  make  himself  a  beggar  in 
this  silly  way  without  an  effort  to  save  him  on  the  part  of  his 
mother's  friends.  But  from  a  child  he  had  always  thought 


86  THE  GENTLEMAN  HIGHWAYMAN 

he  knew  better  than  anyone  else,  and  quarrelled  with  those 
who  took  a  different  view.  Naturally,  when  the  money  had 
all  disappeared  without  anything  to  show  for  it,  he  chose  to 
forget  how  rude  he  had  been,  and  expected  his  relations  to 
support  him  in  idleness,  which  they  absolutely  refused  to  do. 
At  length,  not  knowing  which  way  to  turn,  he  was  glad  enough 
to  become  the  valet  of  a  certain  Mr.  Howard,  who  was  on  his 
way  to  England.  When  he  liked,  the  young  Irishman  could 
make  himself  as  pleasant  as  most  of  his  countrymen,  and 
Mr.  Howard  took  a  great  fancy  to  him,  and  treated  him  with 
much  kindness.  But  from  first  to  last  James  never  knew 
when  he  was  well  off,  and  after  a  while  he  returned  to  his 
old  ways,  and  frequently  stayed  out  all  night,  drinking  and 
gambling.  In  vain  did  Mr.  Howard  warn  him  that  unless  he 
gave  up  these  habits  he  would  certainly  be  dismissed.  The 
young  man  paid  no  heed  to  his  words,  and  in  the  end  his 
master's  patience  was  exhausted,  and  one  day  James  found 
himself  on  board  the  Irish  boat,  without  a  character  and 
nothing  but  his  quarter's  wages  in  his  pockets. 

Now  James  Maclean  was  one  of  those  people  who  are 
totally  without  a  sense  of  shame,  and  if  once  a  person  cannot 
be  made  ashamed  of  what  he  has  done,  and  always  imagines 
himself  to  be  the  victim  of  bad  luck  or  of  somebody  else,  his 
case  is  hopeless.  On  this  occasion  he  was  quite  convinced  that 
it  was  the  duty  of  his  relations  to  supply  him  with  an  income, 
or  at  least  with  a  home,  and  when  as  before  refusals  met  him 
on  all  sides,  he  applied  not  for  the  first  or  even  the  second  time, 
to  his  brother  at  the  Hague  for  help.  We  do  not  know  what 
excuse  he  made  for  his  request,  but  we  may  be  quite  certain 
it  was  not  the  true  one  ;  still  whether  his  brother  believed 
him  or  not,  he  sent  him  a  small  sum,  probably  at  the  cost  of 
great  self-denial,  for  the  salaries  of  ministers  were  not  high. 
This  money,  as  was  to  be  expected,  went  the  way  of  the  rest, 
and  again  James  found  himself  penniless  and  reduced  to  look 
for  a  place  as  a  servant. 

Hearing  that  a  Colonel  in  the  British  army  who  had  served 
abroad  with  some  of  his  Scotch  uncles  was  in  need  of  a  butler, 


THE  GENTLEMAN  HIGHWAYMAN  87 

young  Maclean  went  to  see  him,  and  was  lucky  enough  to 
obtain  the  situation,  though  he  knew  as  little  of  a  butler's  work 
as  he  did  of  a  printer's.  He  was,  however,  quick  at  picking  up 
anything  that  he  chose  and  contrived  to  keep  this  place  for  a 
year  or  two,  till  the  Colonel  discovered  that  his  butler  had  been 
carrying  out  a  system  of  robbery  ever  since  he  had  been  in  his 
house.  After  a  few  words  from  his  master,  James  was  once 
more  cast'  on  the  world,  and  had  some  idea  of  enlisting  in  the 
Irish  brigade  then  serving  under  the  French  flag,  and  this 
would  have  been  the  best  thing  that  could  have  happened  to 
him.  But  as,  on  inquiry,  he  learned  that  unless  he  became  a 
Roman  Catholic  he  would  be  refused  a  commission,  he  changed 
his  mind  and  resolved  to  remain  where  he  was. 

'  Well,  I  suppose  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  a  humble 
letter  to  the  Colonel,'  thought  James  one  day,  when  he  heard 
from  a  man  whom  he  met  at  a  tavern  that  his  late  master  was 
on  his  way  to  England.  So  calling  for  paper  and  a  pen,  he  com- 
posed a  letter  to  such  good  purpose  and  so  full  of  lies,  that 
the  kindhearted  Colonel  really  believed  he  had  repented,  and 
offered  to  take  him  back,  desiring  at  the  same  time  that  James 
should  take  his  baggage  by  sea  to  London,  and  allowing  him  a 
shilling  a  day  for  his  food. 

It  was  with  mingled  feelings  of  contempt  and  relief  that 
the  young  reprobate  read  his  master's  reply.  '  What  a  fool 
he  is  !  '  he  said  to  himself,  adding  after  a  moment  '  Well, 
after  all,  it  is  lucky  for  me  !  ' 

But  the  Colonel,  good-natured  though  he  was,  knew  too 
much  about  master  James  to  give  credit  to  his  stories,  and 
declined  a  request,  made  soon  after  their  arrival  in  London, 
to  purchase  a  commission  for  his  late  butler,  with  a  view  to 
enabling  him  to  marry  an  heiress.  Yet  when  he  discovered  that 
Maclean  had  really  enlisted  in  Lord  Albemarle's  regiment  of 
horse-guards,  he  consented  to  give  him  the  ten  pounds  necessary 
for  the  purpose,  which,  to  keep  it  the  more  safely,  was  placed 
in  the  hands  of  one  of  the  officers.  Whether  Maclean  ever 
succeeded  in  handling  the  money  seems  doubtful,  for  as  soon 
as  his  papers  were  made  out  and  he  was  ordered  to  join  the 


88  THE  GENTLEMAN  HIGHWAYMAN 

army  in  Flanders,  he  suddenly  disappeared,  and  the  troopship 
sailed  without  him. 

There  must  have  been  something  very  attractive  about  this 
rogue,  for  whatever  desperate  plight  he  was  in  he  always  con- 
trived to  fall  on  his  feet ;  and  when  he  thought  it  safe  to  emerge 
from  the  place  where  he  was  in  hiding  while  there  was  a  hue 
and  cry  raised  after  the  deserter,  it  was  in  the  character  of  a 
man  anxious  to  start  for  the  West  Indies — if  someone  would 
only  lend  him  fifty  pounds  ! 

Someone  did  lend  it  to  him,  and  it  was  instantly  spent  on 
fine  clothes  which  captured  the  heart  of  Miss  Macglegno,  the 
daughter  of  a  horse-dealer,  with  five  hundred  pounds  to  her 
dowry. 

This  time,  Maclean  did  not  dare  to  throw  about  the  money 
as  he  had  previously  done,  but  with  his  father-in-law's  eye 
upon  him,  he  opened  a  grocer's  shop  in  Welbeck  Street,  hoping 
that  the  fashionable  people  who  had  come  to  live  in  the  big 
new  houses  in  Cavendish  Square  might  give  him  their  custom. 
But  his  wife  speedily  saw  that  if  the  business  was  to  prosper 
she  must  look  after  it  herself,  as  her  husband  could  be  de- 
pended on  for  nothing.  Therefore  she  set  to  work,  and  for 
three  years  all  went  well,  and  the  neighbours  said  to  each 
other  that  it  was  fortunate  she  was  such  a  stirring  woman, 
as  though  Master  Maclean  was  a  harmless  sort  of  man  he 
was  apt  to  be  lazy. 

At  the  end  of  this  period  Mrs.  Maclean  died,  after  a  short 
illness,  and  her  two  little  girls  went  to  live  with  their  grand- 
mother. Left  alone,  James  neglected  the  shop  more  and  more, 
and  at  length  it  grew  plain  to  himself,  as  well  as  to  everybody 
else,  that  if  any  money  was  to  be  saved  at  all,  the  goods  must 
be  sold  for  what  they  would  fetch.  And  once  sold,  it  is  easy 
to  guess  how  quickly  the  gold  melted  in  James's  pocket. 

It  was  not  till  he  had  come  to  his  last  shilling — or  at  any 
rate  his  last  pound — that  Maclean  began  to  ask  himself  '  What 
next  ?  '  After  these  years  of  comfort  and  plenty — and  idle- 
ness— it  would  be  hard  to  become  a  servant  again,  yet  he 


THE  GENTLEMAN  HIGHWAYMAN  89 

could  not  see   any   other  means    of  keeping  himself  from 
starving. 

He  was  slowly  getting  accustomed  to  the  idea  of  seeking 
for  a  servant's  place,  when  one  day  he  met  in  the  streets 
an  apothecary  named  Plunket,  whom  he  had  known  in 
Monaghan. 

'  How  now  ?  '  asked  Plunket.  '  Is  anything  the  matter  ? 
You  look  as  if  you  were  on  the  road  to  be  hung  at  Tyburn.' 

'  The  matter  is  that  to-morrow  I  shall  not  have  a  penny  in 
the  world,'  answered  Maclean,  gloomily. 

'  Oh,  things  are  never  so  bad  as  they  seem,'  said  Plunket. 
'  Cheer  up.  Perhaps  I  can  find  a  way  to  supply  you  with 
more  pennies.  It  only  wants  a  little  pluck  and  spirit !  If 
we  haven't  got  any  money,  there  are  plenty  of  other  people 
who  have.' 

Maclean  was  silent.  He  understood  at  once  what  Plunket 
meant,  and  that  he  was  being  offered  a  partnership  in  a  scheme 
of  highway  robbery.  He  had,  as  we  know,  stolen  small  sums 
before,  but  that  felt  to  him  a  very  different  thing  from  stopping 
travellers  along  the  road,  and  demanding  '  their  money  or  their 
life.'  However,  he  soon  shook  off  his  scruples,  and  was  ready  to 
take  his  part  in  any  scheme  that  Plunket  should  arrange. 

'  You  are  in  luck  just  now,'  said  his  tempter,  who  all  this 
time  had  been  watching  his  face  and  read  the  thoughts  that 
were  passing  through  his  mind.  '  I  heard  only  this  morning 
of  a  farmer  who  has  sold  a  dozen  fat  oxen  at  the  Smithfield 
Market,  and  will  be  riding  home  this  evening  with  the  money 
in  his  saddle-bags.  If  he  had  any  sense  he  would  have  started 
early  and  ridden  in  company,  but  I  know  my  gentleman  well, 
and  dare  swear  he  will  not  leave  the  tavern  outside  the  market 
till  dusk  is  falling.  So  if  we  lie  in  wait  for  him  on  Hounslow 
Heath,  he  cannot  escape  us.' 

It  was  autumn,  and  dark  at  seven  o'clock,  when  the  farmer, 
not  as  sober  as  he  might  have  been,  came  jogging  along.  He 
was  more  than  half-way  across,  and  was  already  thinking  how 
best  to  spend  the  sixty  pounds  his  beasts  had  brought  him,  when 
out  of  a  hollow  by  the  roadside  sprang  two  men  with  masks 
and  pistols,  which  were  pointed  straight  at  his  horse's  head. 


90  THE  GENTLEMAN  HIGHWAYMAN 

'  Your  money  or  your  life,'  said  one  of  them,  while  the 
other  stood  silent ;  and  with  trembling  fingers  the  farmer 
unloaded  his  saddle-bags,  and  delivered  up  his  watch.  As 
soon  as  Plunket  saw  there  was  no  more  to  be  got  out  of  him, 
he  gave  the  horse  a  smart  cut  on  his  flanks,  and  the  animal 
bounded  away. 

All  this  while  Maclean  had  not  uttered  a  word,  nor  had  he 
laid  a  finger  on  the  victim.  He  had  in  reality  trembled  with 
fear  quite  as  much  as  the  farmer,  and  it  was  not  till  they  were 
safe  in  Plunket's  garret  off  Soho  Square  that  he  breathed 
freely. 

'  Sixty  pounds,  do  you  say  ?  Not  bad  for  one  night's  work,' 
cried  Plunket.  '  Well,  friend  James,  I  will  give  you  ten  pounds 
for  your  share,  which  I  call  handsome,  seeing  you  did  not  even 
cock  your  pistol !  But  perhaps  it  is  all  one  could  .expect  for 
the  first  time,  only  on  the  next  occasion  you  must  do  better. 
And  you  might  just  as  well,  you  know,  as  if  the  officers  of 
the  peace  catch  you  they  will  hang  you  to  a  certainty,  never 
stopping  to  ask  questions  as  to  your  share  in  the  matter.' 

Maclean  nodded.  He  saw  the  truth  of  this,  and  besides, 
the  excitement  of  the  adventure  began  to  stir  his  blood,  and 
he  was  soon  counting  the  days  till  he  heard  from  Plunket  again. 
On  this  occasion  a  travelling  carriage  was  to  be  stopped  on 
the  St.  Albans  road,  and  it  was  settled  that  Maclean  should 
present  his  pistol  to  the  coachman's  head,  while  Plunket 
secured  the  booty.  But  when  it  came  to  the  point,  James's 
face  was  so  white,  and  the  fingers  which  held  the  pistol  so 
shaky,  that  Plunket  saw  they  had  better  change  parts,  and 
indeed,  as  the  gentleman  inside  offered  no  resistance  whatever, 
and  meekly  yielded  up  everything  of  value  he  had  about  him, 
Maclean  succeeded  in  doing  all  that  was  required  of  him  by 
his  partner. 

'  Much  good  you  are  !  '  said  Plunket,  when  they  had 
plunged  into  the  neighbouring  wood.  '  If  I  had  not  been  there 
that  coachman  would  have  stunned  you  with  the  butt  end  of 
his  whip.  You  are  the  lion  who  was  born  without  claws  or 
teeth  !  A  cat  would  have  been  as  useful.' 

'  Yes,  I  know,'  answered  Maclean  hurriedly,  feeling  very 


THE  GENTLEMAN  HIGHWAYMAN  91 

much  ashamed  of  himself.  '  I  can't  think  what  was  the  matter 
with  me — I  suppose  I  'm  not  quite  accustomed  to  it  yet.'  And 
that  very  evening,  to  prove  to  Plunket — and  himself — that  he 
was  not  such  a  coward  as  he  seemed,  he  attacked  a  gentleman 
in  Hyde  Park  and  robbed  him  of  a  gold  watch  and  chain  and  a 
small  sum  of  money. 

After  this  Maclean  shook  off  his  timidity,  and  became 
known  to  his  brother  highwaymen  as  one  of  the  most  daring 
and  successful  '  gentlemen  of  the  road,' — for  so  the  people 
called  them.  Only  on  one  occasion  did  he  run  any  risk  of 
being  caught,  and  then  he  took  refuge  on  board  a  vessel  that 
was  sailing  for  Holland,  and  sought  out  his  brother  at  the 
Hague. 

'  It  is  so  long  since  we  have  seen  each  other,  I  could  not 
but  come,'  he  said  to  the  minister,  who,  suspecting  nothing, 
was  delighted  to  welcome  him,  and  insisted  on  hearing  the 
story  of  James's  life  since  they  had  last  parted.  For  a  whole 
evening  the  good  man  listened  to  a  moving  tale,  not  one  word 
of  which  was  true,  except  that  which  related  to  James's 
marriage  and  the  starting  of  the  grocer's  shop.  The  minister 
praised  and  pitied,  and  told  it  all  to  his  friends,  rich  and 
prosperous  citizens  who  were  proud  to  invite  the  fine  gentle- 
man from  London  to  their  parties.  And  if  at  the  end  of  the 
evening  some  purses  and  watches  were  missing,  well !  they 
might  have  been  robbed  on  their  way  hither,  or  have  forgotten 
them  at  home.  At  any  rate,  nobody  dreamed  for  one  moment 
of  suspecting  their  minister's  guest. 

But  in  spite  of  all  the  precautions  which,  notwithstanding 
his  recklessness,  Maclean  thought  well  to  take — in  spite  of  his 
silence  respecting  his  own  affairs,  and  his  frequent  changes  of 
lodgings  so  that  no  one  might  connect  him  with  one  particular 
neighbourhood,  he  at  last  put  the  rope  round  his  own  neck  by 
an  act  of  gross  carelessness. 

On  the  morning  of  June  26,  1750,  James  robbed  Lord 
Eglinton  in  his  travelling  carriage,  and  a  little  later  in  the  same 
day  attacked  the  Salisbury  coach,  in  company  with  Plunket. 


92-  THE  GENTLEMAN  HIGHWAYMAN 

They  escaped  as  usual,  Maclean  carrying  with  him  a  bag  con- 
taining several  suits  of  fine  clothes,  trimmed  with  beautiful 
lace,  belonging  to  one  of  the  passengers  named  Higden. 
Maclean's  first  care  was  to  strip  off  the  lace,  and  to  send  a 
message  to  a  dealer  that  he  had  some  clothes  to  sell,  if  the  man 
would  call  to  see  them  at  his  address.  At  the  time,  the  dealer 
chanced  to  be  busy  and  could  not  come,  and  by  the  following 
morning,  when  he  made  his  way  to  Maclean's  rooms,  an 
advertisement  was  out  describing  the  garments  so  exactly  that 
the  man  instantly  recognised  them,  and  gave  information  to 
the  magistrate. 

That  night  the  '  gentleman  highwayman  '  was  arrested  on 
a  warrant,  and  carried  to  the  prison  of  Newgate,  and  Plunket, 
who  had  been  uneasy  since  the  dealer's  visit,  and  was  on  the 
watch,  hurried  to  the  coast  in  disguise  and  hid  on  board  a 
smuggler's  boat,  bound  for  France.  Maclean  remained  to  take 
his  trial,  and  after  first  confessing  and  then  denying  his  con- 
fession, was  convicted  of  robbery  on  the  King's  highway,  and 
was  hanged  at  the  gallows  erected  at  Tyburn,  where  the  corner 
of  Connaught  Square  and  the  Edgware  Road  now  stand.  He 
was  at  the  period  of  his  execution  only  twenty-six,  yet  he  had 
contrived  to  do  more  mean  and  base  deeds  than  most  rogues 
of  sixty. 


THE  VISION  OF  THE  POPE 

IT  was  the  evening  of  October  7,  1571,  when  the  Christian 
fleet,  under  the  command  of  Don  John  of  Austria,  had 
defeated  the  Turks  at  the  battle  of  Lepanto — one  of  the 
'  Fifteen  Decisive  Battles  of  the  World.'  Far  away  from  the 
narrow  Greek  seas,  where  the  victory  had  been  gained,  the 
Pope,  Pius  V,  was  in  his  palace  of  the  Vatican  in  Rome,  dis- 
cussing business  with  his  treasurer,  Busotti  of  Bibiana.  Pope 
Pius  suffered  from  a  painful  complaint  which  made  him  very 
restless,  and  he  always  preferred  to  stand  or  walk  about,  rather 
than  to  sit.  He  was  therefore  pacing  the  room,  putting 
questions  or  listening  to  statements  as  he  did  so,  when  sud- 
denly he  broke  off  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence  and  stood  still 
with  his  neck  stretched  out  in  the  attitude  of  a  person  whose 
ears  are  strained  to  catch  some  sound,  at  the  same  time  signing 
to  Busotti  to  keep  silent.  After  a  moment's  pause  he  ap- 
proached the  window  and  threw  it  open,  always  in  the  same 
listening  attitude,  while  Busotti,  half  frightened,  sat  watching. 
Then  in  an  instant  a  look  of  rapture  passed  over  the  face  of 
Pius,  and  lifting  his  head  he  raised  his  clasped  hands  to 
Heaven  as  if  in  thanksgiving.  At  this  sight  Busotti  understood 
that  something  strange  was  happening  which  he  could  not  see, 
and  he  remained  awed  and  still  for  three  minutes,  as  he  after- 
wards swore.  When  the  three  minutes  were  ended  the 
Pope  aroused  himself  from  his  ecstasy,  and  with  a  countenance 
shining  with  joy,  spoke  to  Busotti : 

'  This  is  not  the  hour  for  business.  Let  us  give  thanks  to 
God  for  our  great  victory  over  the  Turks,'  and  he  retired  into 
his  oratory. 

Left  at  liberty  the  treasurer  hastened  to  give  an  account  of 
95 


96  THE   VISION  OF  THE  POPE 

these  strange  events  to  various  bishops  and  cardinals,  who 
desired  that  it  should  instantly  be  taken  down  in  writing,  the 
time  and  place  of  the  scene  being  carefully  noted.  They 
ordered  further,  that  when  sealed,  the  document  should  be 
deposited  for  safety  in  the  house  of  a  lawyer.  This,  it  will  be 
remembered,  was  on  October  7,  but  the  first  news  of 
the  battle  was  not  received  in  Rome  till  the  26th,  when  a 
messenger  arrived  from  the  Doge  of  Venice,  Mocenigo,  followed 
three  or  four  days  later  by  one  from  Don  John  himself. 
Then  calculations  were  made  of  the  difference  of  time  between 
the  longitude  of  Rome  and  that  of  the  islands  off  the  Greek 
coast  where  the  battle  was  fought,  with  the  result  that  it  was 
proved  that  the  vision  of  the  Pope  had  occurred  at  the  precise 
moment  in  which  Don  John  had  sprung,  sword  in  hand,  from 
his  place  in  the  centre  of  his  galley  to  beat  back  the  Turks  who 
were  swarming  over  the  bulwarks. 

The  repelling  of  the  attack  had  turned  the  scale  in  the 
fortunes  of  the  day,  and  the  power  of  the  Turks  over 
Christendom  was  broken  for  ever. 


GRO  WING-  UP-LIKE-ONE-  WHO-HAS-A-GRAND- 
MOTHER 

THAT  was  the  name  of  a  little  Indian  boy  living  on  the  North- 
West  coast  of  America,  and  a  very  odd  name  it  is,  as  well  as  a 
very  long  one.  To  be  sure,  in  his  own  language  it  could  all  be 
put  into  seventeen  letters,  while  in  English  it  takes  thirty-four, 
as  you  will  find  if  you  count  them,  and  that  does  make  a 
difference. 

However,  though  we  should  have  preferred  a  name  that 
was  shorter  and  prettier,  there  is  something  satisfactory  about 
this  one,  for  a  little  boy  who  has  a  grandmother  is  likely  to  be 
well  fed  and  petted,  and  made  to  feel  himself  a  person  of 
importance,  and  that  is  pleasant  to  everybody.  But  it  also 
means  in  general  that  he  has  lost  his  father  and  mother,  which 
had  happened  to  this  particular  little  boy.  They  had  died  a 
long  while  before,  and  now  there  only  remained  his  grand- 
mother and  his  mother's  brother,  who  was  chief  of  the  village. 

One  evening  the  chief  was  sitting  on  the  beach  gazing  up 
at  the  sky.  And  while  he  gazed,  fire  came  right  down  like 
a  shooting  star,  and  struck  the  point  of  a  branch  which  grew 
on  a  tree  behind  his  house.  As  it  touched  the  branch  it 
became  solid  and  hung  there,  shining  like  copper.  When  the 
chief  saw  this  he  arose  and  walked  to  the  house  and  said  to 
the  people  inside  : 

'  There  is  a  great  piece  of  copper  hanging  from  that  tree. 
Bid  the  young  men  go  and  knock  it  down  and  whichever  hits 
it  shall  marry  my  daughter.' 

Quite  a  crowd  of  youths  gathered  at  the  back  of  the  chief's 
house  early  next  morning,  and  many  of  the  old  men  came 
97  H 


98         LIKE-ONE-  WHO-HAS-A-GRANDMOTHER 

likewise  to  watch  the  sport.  All  day  the  young  Indians  threw 
stones  till  their  hands  became  sore  and  their  arms  ached,  but 
never  once^did  the  lump  of  copper  move.  At  last  for  very 
weariness  they  had  to  rest,  and  eat  some  food.  After  that  they 
felt  better  and  went  on  throwing  stones  till  darkness  fell,  but 
still  no  one  had  hit  the  copper. 

As  soon  as  the  stars  peeped  out  the  poor  little  boy  who  had 
been  looking  on  also  ran  down  to  the  beach,  as  his  uncle  had 
done,  and  laid  himself  upon  a  rock.  By  and  bye  a  man 
approached  him  and  said: 

'  What  are  the  village  people  talking  about.  They  make 
a  great  noise  !  ' 

'  A  lump  of  copper  is  hanging  on  the  tree  and  they  were 
trying  to  knock  it  down,  but  nobody  succeeded,'  answered  the 
boy  ;  and  as  he  spoke,  the  man  stooped  and  picked  up  four 
pebbles. 

'  It  is  you  who  shall  knock  it  down,'  said  he.  '  First  you 
must  throw  the  white  stone,  then  the  black  stone,  then  the  blue 
stone,  and  last  of  all  the  red  stone.  But  be  careful  not  to  show 
them  to  anybody.' 

'  I  will  be  careful,'  replied  the  boy. 

On  the  following  morning  all  the  people  returned  to  the 
place  behind  the  house,  and  the  poor  little  boy  went  with  them. 

'  I  am  going  to  throw,  too,'  said  he,  and  the  young  men 
tried  to  push  him  aside,  asking  scornfully  how  one  so  small 
could  hope  to  succeed  when  they  had  failed.  But  the  old 
men  would  not  allow  them  to  have  their  way,  and  said : 

'Let  him  throw,  too ;  the  chief  has  given  leave  to  everybody, 
and  he  can  but  fail  as  you  have  done.  He  shall  throw  first.' 
So  the  poor  little  boy  stepped  forward,  and  taking  out  the 
white  stone  swung  it  round  his  head  so  that  it  whistled  four 
times  before  he  let  it  go.  It  flew  very  near  the  copper,  nearer 
than  any  of  the  young  men's  stones  had  flown,  and  the  black  and 
the  blue  almost  grazed  it.  The  young  men  looking  on  grew 
uncomfortable  and  ceased  mocking,  and  as  the  poor  little  boy 
drew  out  the  red  stone,  they  held  their  breath.  Swiftly  it 
shot  through  the  air  and  struck  the  copper  with  a  great  clang,  so 
that  it  fell  down  to  the  earth.  The  old  men  nodded  their  heads 


LIKE-ONE-  WHO-HAS-A-ORANDMOTHER         99 

wisely,  but  the  young  men  quickly  picked  up  the  copper  and 
carried  it  into  the  chief's  house,  each  man  crying  out  that  it 
was  he  who  had  hit  the  copper  and  had  gained  the  chief's 
daughter.  But  as  they  could  not  all  have  hit  it,  the  chief 
knew  that  they  were  a  pack  of  liars  and  only  bade  them  wait 
a  while,  and  he  would  see.  As  for  the  poor  little  boy,  he  did 
not  want  to  marry  the  girl  or  anyone  else,  so  he  did  not  mind 
what  the  young  men  said. 

Nothing  more  was  heard  that  day  of  the  winner  of  the  prize, 
but  at  night  a  white  bear  came  to  the  back  of  the  house,  and 
growled  loudly. 

'  Whoever  kills  that  white  bear  shall  marry  my  daughter,' 
said  the  chief,  and  not  a  youth  slept  all  through  the  village, 
wondering  how  best  to  kill  the  white  bear,  and  between  them 
they  made  so  many  plans  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  white  bear 
could  never  escape.  In  the  evening,  the  poor  little  boy  went 
down  to  the  beach  again,  and  sat  upon  a  rock  looking  out  to 
sea,  till  at  last  he  beheld  a  man  approaching  him,  but  it  was 
not  the  same  man  whom  he  had  seen  before. 

'  What  are  the  people  talking  about  in  the  village  ? '  asked 
the  man,  just  as  the  other  had  done,  and  the  poor  little  boy 
answered  : 

'  Last  night  a  white  bear  appeared  behind  the  house. 
Whoever  kills  it  shall  marry  the  chief's  daughter.' 

The  man  nodded  his  head  and  thought  for  a  moment ; 
then  he  said  : 

'  Ask  the  chief  for  a  bow  and  arrow  :  you  shall  shoot  it.' 
So  the  poor  little  boy  got  up  and  left  the  beach,  and  returned 
to  the  village. 

\Vhen  it  grew  dark,  all  the  young  men  met  in  the  house 
of  the  chief,  and  the  poor  little  boy  stole  in  after  them.  The 
chief  took  from  a  shelf  a  tall  quiver  containing  a^quantity  of 
bows  and  arrows,  and  he  held  them  to  the  fire  in  order  to  make 
them  supple.  Then  he  gave  a  bow  and  two  arrows  to  each 
man,  but  to  the  poor  little  boy,  his  own  nephew,  he  gave 
nothing. 

'  Give  me  a  bow  and  arrows  also,'  said  the  poor  little  boy, 

H2 


100       LIKE-ONE-  WHO-HAS-A-ORANDMOTHER 

when  he  saw  that  the  chief  did  not  notice  him,  and  the  young 
men  broke  out  into  scoffs  and  jeers  as  they  had  done  before  ; 
and  as  before,  the  old  men  answered  : 

'  Give  a  bow  and  arrows  to  the  poor  little  boy.'  And  the 
chief  listened  and  gave  them  to  him. 

All  that  night  the  young  men  sat  up,  listening,  listening  ; 
but  it  was  only  before  daybreak  that  they  heard  the  white 
bear's  growl.  At  the  first  sound  they  ran  out,  and  the  poor 
little  boy  ran  out  with  them,  and  he  ran  more  swiftly  than  they 
and  shot  his  arrow.  And  the  arrow  passed  right  through  the 
neck  of  the  bear,  so  that  when  the  poor  little  boy  pulled  it  out 
it  was  covered  with  blood. 

By  this  time  the  young  men  had  come  up  and  found  the 
bear  dead,  so  they  dipped  their  arrows  in  the  blood,  and 
picking  up  the  bear,  carried  it  into  the  house  of  the  chief,  the 
poor  little  boy  coming  behind  them. 

'  It  was  I  who  shot  the  bear  ;  we  are  bringing  him  to  you,' 
shouted  one  quicker  to  speak  than  the  rest ;  but  the  chief  was  a 
wise  man,  and  only  answered : 

'  Let  every  man  give  me  his  bow  and  arrows,  that  I  may 
examine  them,  and  see  who  has  killed  the  white  bear.' 

Now  the  young  men  did  not  like  that  saying,  but  they  were 
forced  to  obey. 

'  Give  me  your  bow  and  arrows  also,'  he  said  to  the  poor 
little  boy,  and  the  poor  little  boy  handed  them  to  him,  and  the 
chief  knew  by  the  marks  that  it  was  he  who  shot  the  white 
bear.  And  the  young  men  saw  by  his  eyes  that  he  knew  it, 
but  they  all  kept  silence  :  the  chief  because  he  was  ashamed 
that  a  boy  had  done  these  two  things  where  grown  men  had 
failed  ;  the  young  men,  because  they  were  ashamed  that  they 
had  lied  and  had  been  found  to  be  lying. 

So  ashamed  was  the  chief  that  he  did  not  wish  his  people  to 
look  upon  his  face,  therefore  he  bade  his  slave  go  down  to  the 
village  and  tell  them  to  depart  to  some  other  place  before 
morning.  The  people  heard  what  the  slave  said  and  obeyed, 
and  by  sunrise  they  were  all  in  their  canoes — all,  that  is, 
except  the  chief's  daughter,  and  the  poor  little  boy  and  his 


LIKE-ONE-  WHO-HAS-A-GRANDMOTHER        101 

grandmother.  Now  the  grandmother  had  some  pieces  of  dried 
salmon  which  she  ate  ;  but  the  chief's  daughter  would  not  eat, 
and  the  poor  little  boy  would  not  eat  either.  The  princess 
slept  in  a  room  at  the  back  of  the  house  and  the  poor  little  boy 
lay  in  the  front,  near  the  fire.  All  night  long  he  lay  there  and 
thought  of  their  poverty,  and  wondered  if  he  could  do  anything 
to  help  them  to  grow  richer.  '  At  any  rate,'  he  said  to  himself, 
'  I  shall  never  become  a  chief  by  lying  in  bed,'  and  as  soon  as 
some  streaks  of  light  were  to  be  seen  under  the  door,  he  dressed 
himself  and  left  the  house,  running  down  to  the  bank  of  the 
great  river  which  flowed  by  the  town.  There  was  a  trail  by  the 
side  of  the  river,  and  the  poor  little  boy  walked  along  the  trail 
till  he  came  to  the  shore  of  a  lake ;  then  he  stopped  and  shouted. 
And  as  he  shouted  a  wave  seemed  to  rise  on  the  top  of  the  water, 
and  out  of  it  came  the  great  frog  who  had  charge  of  the  lake, 
and  drew  near  to  the  place  where  the  poor  little  boy  was 
standing.  Terrible  it  was  to  look  upon,  with  its  long  copper 
claws  which  moved  always,  its  copper  mouth  and  its  shiny 
copper  eyes.  He  was  so  frightened  that  his  legs  felt  turned  to 
stone  ;  but  when  the  frog  put  out  its  claws  to  fasten  them  in 
his  shoulders,  fear  gave  him  wings,  and  he  ran  so  fast  that  the 
frog  could  not  reach  him,  and  returned  to  the  lake.  On  and 
on  ran  the  poor  little  boy,  till  at  last  he  found  himself  outside 
the  woods  where  his  grandmother  and  the  chief's  daughter 
were  waiting  for  him.  Then  he  sat  still  and  rested  ;  but  he  was 
very  hungry,  for  all  this  time  he  had  had  nothing  to  eat,  and 
the  grandmother  and  the  chief's  daughter  had  had  nothing  to 
eat  either. 

'  We  shall  die  if  I  cannot  find  some  food,'  said  the  poor 
little  boy  to  himself,  and  he  went  out  again  to  search  the 
empty  houses  in  the  village,  lest  by  chance  the  people  might 
have  left  some  dried  salmon  or  a  halibut  behind  them.  He 
found  neither  salmon  nor  halibut,  but  he  picked  up  in  one  place 
a  stone  axe,  and  in  another  a  handle,  and  in  a  third  a  hammer. 
The  axe  and  the  handle  he  fastened  together,  and  after  sharpen- 
ing the  blade  of  the  axe  he  began  to  cut  down  a  tree. 
The  tree  was  large,  and  the  poor  little  boy  was  small,  and  had 


102        LIKE-ONE-  WHO-HAS-A-GRANDMOTHER 

not  much  strength,  so  that  dusk  was  approaching  before  the 
tree  fell.  The  next  thing  he  did  was  to  split  the  tree  and  make 
a  wide  crack,  which  he  kept  open  by  wedging  two  short  sticks 
across  it.  When  this  was  done  he  placed  the  tree  on  the  trail 
which  led  to  the  lake,  and  ran  home  again. 

Early  in  the  morning  he  crept  safely  out,  and  went  to  the 
shore  of  the  lake  and  shouted  four  times,  looking  up  as  he 
shouted  at  the  sky.  Again  there  arose  a  wave  on  the  water, 
and  out  of  it  came  the  frog,  with  the  copper  eyes  and  mouth 
and  claws.  It  hopped  swiftly  towards  him,  but  now  the  poor 
little  boy  did  not  mind,  and  waited  till  it  could  almost  touch 
him.  Then  he  turned  and  fled  along  the  trail  where  the  tree 
lay.  Easily  he  slipped  between  the  two  sticks,  and  was  safe  on 
the  other  side,  but  the  great  frog  stuck  fast,  and  the  more  it 
struggled  to  be  free  the  tighter  it  was  held. 

As  soon  as  the  poor  little  boy  saw  that  the  frog  was  firmly 
pinned  between  the  bars,  he  took  up  his  stone  hammer  which 
he  had  left  beside  the  tree  and  dealt  two  sharp  blows  to  the 
sticks  that  wedged  open  the  crack.  The  sticks  flew  out  and 
the  crack  closed  with  a  snap,  killing  the  frog  as  it  did  so.  For 
awhile  the  poor  little  boy  sat  beside  the  tree  quietly,  but  when 
he  was  sure  the  great  frog  must  be  quite  dead,  he  put  back  the 
sticks  to  wedge  open  the  crack  and  drew  out  the  frog. 

'  I  must  turn  it  on  its  back  to  skin  it,'  said  he,  and  after  a 
long  time  he  managed  to  do  this.'  But  he  did  not  take  off  the 
claws  on  the  skin,  which  he  spread  on  the  ground  to  dry. 
After  the  skin  was  dried  he  put  his  arms  and  legs  into  it, 
and  laced  it  firmly  across  his  chest. 

*  Now  I  must  practise,'  he  said,  and  he  jumped  into  the  lake 
just  as  a  frog  would  do,  right  down  to  the  bottom.  Then  he 
walked  along,  till  a  trout  in  passing  swished  him  with  its  tail, 
and  quickly  he  turned  and  caught  it  in  his  hands.  Holding 
the  trout  carefully,  he  swam  up  to  the  surface,  and  when  he  was 
on  shore  again  he  unlaced  the  skin  and  hung  it  on  the  branch 
of  a  tree,  where  no  one  was  likely  to  see  it. 

After  that  he  went  home  and  found  his  grandmother  and 
the  princess  still  sleeping,  so  he  laid  the  trout  on  the  beach  in 
front  of  the  house  and  curled  himself  up  on  his  mat. 


LIKE-ONE-  WHO-HAS-A-GRANDMOTHER        103 

By  and  bye  the  princess  awoke,  and  the  first  thing  she 
heard  was  the  sound  of  a  raven  crying  on  the  beach.  So  she 
quickly  got  out  of  bed  and  went  to  the  place  where  the  poor 
little  boy  was  lying,  and  said  to  him  : 

'  Go  down  to  the  beach,  and  see  why  the  raven  is  crying.' 

The  poor  little  boy  said  nothing,  but  did  her  bidding,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  he  came  back  holding  out  the  trout  to  the 
princess. 

'  The  raven  brought  this,'  he  said  to  her.  But  it  was  the 
trout  which  he  himself  had  caught  in  the  bottom  of  the  lake  ; 
and  he  and  his  grandmother  ate  of  it,  but  the  princess  would 
not  eat.  And  every  morning  this  same  thing  happened,  but 
the  princess  would  eat  nothing,  not  even  when  the  raven — for 
it  was  he,  she  thought — brought  them  a  salmon. 

At  last  a  night  came  when  the  princess  could  not  sleep,  and 
hearing  a  movement  she  rose  softly  and  peeped  through  her 
curtain  of  skins.  The  poor  little  boy  was  getting  ready  to  go 
out,  and  as  she  watched  him  she  saw  that  he  was  a  poor  little 
boy  no  longer,  but  a  tall  youth.  After  a  long,  long  time  he 
crept  in  again  and  lay  down,  but  the  princess  did  not  sleep  ; 
and  when  daylight  broke  and  the  raven  called,  she  went  to  the 
beach  herself,  and  beheld  a  large  salmon  on  the  sand.  She 
took  up  the  salmon,  and  carried  it  into  the  house,  and  stood 
before  the  poor  little  boy. 

'  I  know  the  truth  now,'  she  said.  '  It  was  you  and  not  the 
raven  who  found  the  trout,'  and  the  poor  little  boy  answered  : 

'  Yes  ;  it  was  I.  My  uncle  deserted  us  all,  and  I  had  to 
get  food.  The  frog  lived  in  the  lake,  and  when  I  called  it,  it 
came,  and  I  set  a  trap  for  it  and  killed  it ;  and  by  the  help  of 
its  skin  I  dived  into  the  lake  likewise,  and  now  I  am  great,  for 
you  have  taken  notice  of  me.' 

'  You  shall  marry  me,'  said  the  princess,  and  he  married 
her,  for  he  had  ceased  to  be  a  poor  little  boy,  and  was  grown 
to  be  a  man.  And  whenever  he  went  out  to  hunt  or  to  fish, 
luck  was  with  him,  and  he  killed  all  that  he  sent  his  spear  after, 
even  whales  and  porpoises. 

Time  passed  and  they  had  two  children,  and  still  his 
hunting  prospered  and  he  grew  rich.  But  one  day  he  suddenly 


104        LIKE-ONE-  WHO-HAS-A-GRANDMOTHER 

felt  very  tired  and  he  told  his  wife,  who  feared  greatly  that 
some  evil  should  befall  him. 

'  Oh,  cease  hunting,  I  pray  you  ! '  said  she.  '  Surely  you  are 
rich  enough ' ;  but  he  would  not  listen,  and  hunted  as  much  as 
ever. 

Now  most  of  the  people  who  had  left  the  town  at  the  chief's 
bidding  were  dead,  and  the  chief  never  doubted  but  that  his 
daughter  and  the  poor  little  boy  and  the  old  grandmother  were 
dead  also.  But  at  length  some  of  those  who  survived,  wished 
to  behold  their  homes  once  more,  and  they  set  out  in  four 
canoes  to  the  old  place.  As  they  drew  near,  they  saw  many 
storehouses  all  full  of  spoils  from  the  sea,  and  four  whales  laid 
up  outside.  Greatly  were  they  amazed,  but  they  got  out  of 
their  canoes  and  went  up  to  speak  to  the  young  man  who 
stood  there,  and  he  spread  food  before  them,  and  gave  them 
gifts  when  in  the  evening  they  said  farewell.  They  hastened 
to  tell  their  chief  all  that  they  had  seen  and  heard,  and  he  was 
glad,  and  bade  his  people  move  back  to  the  town  and  live  in 
their  old  houses.  So  the  next  day  the  canoes  put  to  sea  again, 
and  the  poor  little  boy  opened  his  storehouses  and  feasted  the 
people,  and  they  chose  him  for  their  chief. 

'  It  grows  harder  every  day  to  take  off  the  frog  blanket,'  he 
said  to  his  wife,  and  at  his  words  she  cried  and  would  not  take 
comfort.  For  now  her  husband  could  not  rest  contented  at 
home,  but  hunted  elks  and  bought  slaves  and  was  richer  than 
any  other  chief  had  ever  been  before  him.  At  length  he  told 
his  uncle  he  wished  to  give  a  pot-latch  or  a  great  banquet,  and 
he  invited  to  it  the  Indians  who  dwelt  many  miles  away. 
When  they  were  all  gathered  together  he  called  the  people 
into  the  house,  for  in  the  centre  of  it  he  had  placed  his  slaves 
and  elk-skins  and  the  other  goods  that  he  possessed. 

'  You  shall  distribute  them,'  he  said  to  his  uncle,  and  his 
uncle  bade  him  put  on  his  head  the  great  copper  he  had  knocked 
down  from  the  tree,  and  the  skin  of  the  white  bear  which  he 
had  killed  when  he  was  still  a  poor  little  boy.  Thus  with 
the  copper  on  his  head  and  the  bear-skin  on  his  shoulders  he 
walked  to  the  pile  of  elk -skins  in  the  middle  of  the  house  and 
sang,  for  this  was  part  of  the  ceremony  of  giving  him  a 


LIKE-ONE-  WHO-HAS-A-GRANDMOTHER        105 

name  to  show  that  he  was  grown  up.     And  after  the  song  was 
ended  the  chief  said  : 

'  Now  I  will  call  you  by  your  name,'  and  the  name  that  he 
gave  him  was  Growing-up-like-one-who-has-a-grandmother, 
because  his  grandmother  had  always  been  so  kind  to  him. 
After  that  the  poor  little  boy  took  off  the  great  copper  and 
the  bear-skin,  and  gave  gifts  to  his  guests,  and  they  departed. 

The  chief  and  his  wife  were  left  alone  and  he  put  on  his  frog 
blanket,  for  he  was  going  to  catch  seals  for  the  people  to  eat. 
But  his  face  was  sad  and  he  said  to  his  wife  : 

'  I  shall  return  safely  this  time,  but  when  next  I  put  on  that 
blanket  I  may  not  be  able  to  take  it  off,  and  if  I  can't,  perhaps 
I  may  never  come  home  again.  But  I  shall  not  forget  you,  and 
you  will  always  find  the  seals  and  halibut  and  the  salmon, 
which  I  shall  catch  for  you,  in  front  of  the  house. 

He  did  not  leave  them  quite  as  soon  as  he  expected.  For 
several  days  his  wife  who  was  always  watching  for  him,  saw 
him  walk  up  the  beach  ;  then  one  day  she  watched  in  vain, 
for  though  salmon  and  whales  were  there,  the  poor  little  boy 
was  not.  Each  morning  she  took  her  two  children  down  to 
the  shore  and  they  stood  looking  over  the  waves  crying 
bitterly  as  the  tide  went  out,  because  they  knew  he  could  not 
come  till  it  was  high  again. 

Food  in  plenty  they  had,  and  enough  for  the  people  of  the 
town  also,  but  the  poor  little  boy  never  came  home  any  more, 
for  he  had  grown  to  be  a  frog,  and  was  obliged  to  live  in  the 
sea. 

[From  the  Bureau  of  American  Ethnology:  Tsimsliian 
Texts  by  Franz  Boas.] 


THE  HANDLESS  BRIGADE 

HAVE  you  ever  thought  what  it  would  be  like  to  have  no  arms, 
and  be  obliged  to  use  your  toes  for  everything  ?  If  not,  try 
it  on  a  wet  day,  and  see  how  much  you  can  manage  to  do. 
Yet,  there  are  plenty  of  true  stories  of  people  born  without 
hands,  who  have  contrived  by  practice  to  teach  their  toes  not 
only  to  supply  the  place  of  ordinary  fingers,  but  of  very  clever 
ringers,  which  is  quite  another  matter  !  I  myself  once  saw  a 
young  man  in  a  Belgian  gallery  busily  engaged  in  copying  a 
picture,  and  as  he  had  no  arms  he  painted  with  his  toes, 
seated  on  a  high  stool,  to  place  him  on  the  level  he  wanted. 
It  was  near  the  hour  of  closing  when  I  happened  to  notice  him, 
and  after  a  few  minutes  during  which  I  had  watched  him  spell- 
bound, he  got  down  from  his  stool,  kicked  off  one  shoe,  dis- 
closing a  stocking  neatly  cut  across  the  toes,  leaving  them  free. 
He  then  shut  up  his  paint  box,  and  picking  up  his  brushes  one 
by  one  dabbled  them  in  a  glass  of  water  that  stood  near,  and 
wiped  them  on  a  cloth,  after  which  he  put  them  carefully  in 
their  case,  lying  on  a  table. 

At  the  sight  of  this,  I  forgot  my  manners  and  uttered  a  cry 
of  amazement,  which  I  think  rather  pleased  the  painter,  for 
everyone  likes  to  feel  that  he  can  do  something  better  than  his 
fellows.  At  all  events  he  knew  I  did  not  mean  to  be  rude,  for 
he  went  to  his  box  on  the  floor,  opened  it,  took  up  the  top  card 
printed  with  his  name,  Charles  le  Felu,  from  a  packet,  and 
presented  it  to  me.  Then  he  put  on  his  hat  which  was  hanging 
on  a  peg,  bowed  and  walked  away,  the  sleeves  of  his  coat 
being  so  fastened  that  he  looked  like  a  man  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets. 

I  kept  that  card  till  I  was  married,  and  obliged  to  throw 
away  many  of  my  treasures. 

106 


THE  HANDLE8S  BRIGADE  107 

James  Caulfield,  about  the  beginning  of  the  last  century, 
collected  many  stories  of  handless  people — who  were  '  handless  ' 
in  a  very  different  sense  from  what  we  mean,  when  we  use  the 
word.  He  tells  us  of  a  German  called  Valerius,  who  was  born 
when  Charles  II.  was  on  the  throne  of  England,  and  like  my 
friend  the  painter,  had  no  arms.  This  would  have  seemed  a 
terrible  calamity  if  it  had  come  alone,  but  before  he  was  out 
of  his  boyhood  both  his  parents  died,  and  left  him  penniless. 
Happily  for  Valerius,  his  mother  had  been  a  sensible  woman, 
and  insisted  that  her  son  should  learn  to  make  his  toes  as  useful 
as  fingers.  Perched  on  his  high  stool,  he  did  his  copies  like 
another  child,  and  in  later  life,  when  he  became  famous,  often 
wrote  lines  round  his  portraits.  But  much  better  than  writing 
copies,  he  loved  to  beat  a  drum.  Now  beating  a  drum  does  not 
sound  nearly  so  difficult  as  writing  copies,  and  perhaps  he  was 
allowed  to  do  it  as  a  treat  when  he  had  said  his  lessons  without 
a  mistake,  but  with  practice  he  was  able  to  play  cards  and 
throw  dice  as  well  as  any  of  his  friends.  He  certainly  always 
shaved  himself  when  he  grew  to  be  a  man,  but  it  is  rather  hard 
to  believe  that  in  fencing  he  used  his  rapier,  which  he  held 
between  his  big  toe  and  the  next,  '  with  as  much  skill  as  his 
adversary,'  standing  on  his  left  leg  the  while. 

The  admiration  of  his  playfellows  at  his  cleverness  filled 
him  with  pride,  and  Valerius  was  always  trying  fresh  feats  to 
show  off  to  his  audience. 

When  it  became  necessaiy  for  him  to  earn  his  own  living, 
he  was  able  to  support  himself  in  comfort,  travelling  from  one 
country  to  another,  and  always  drawing  crowds  who  came  to 
see  this  Eighth  Wonder  of  the  world — for  so  they  thought  him. 
In  his  leisure  hours  he  practised  some  of  his  old  tricks,  or  learnt 
new  ones,  and  in  1698  he  came  to  England  where  he  stayed  for 
seven  years.  Many  are  the  tales  told  of  him  during  this 
time.  Sometimes  he  would  raise  a  chair  with  his  toes,  and 
put  it  in  a  different  place  ;  sometimes  with  the  help  of  his 
teeth  he  would  build  towers  made  of  dice,  or  he  would  lie  on 
his  back  and,  taking  a  glass  of  water  in  his  toes,  would  carry 
it  to  his  mouth.  He  could  fire  a  pistol  with  his  toes  when 


108  THE  HANDLESS  BRIGADE 

seated  on  a  stool,  and  using  both  feet  he  could  discharge  a 
musket.  This  must  have  been  the  hardest  thing  of  any,  for 
the  musket  of  those  times  was  a  clumsy,  heavy  weapon,  and  it 
was  not  easy  to  keep  your  balance  when  it  went  off. 

Then  we  have  all  of  us  heard  of  the  famous  Miss  Biffin,  who 
lived  at  the  time  when  James  Caulfield  wrote  his  book.  She 
went  to  the  big  fairs  round  London,  and  had  a  little  booth  all 
to  herself.  There,  on  payment  of  a  small  sum.  visitors  were 
admitted  to  see  her  sewing  with  a  needle  held  by  her  toes, 
and  sewing  much  more  neatly  than  many  of  those  who  came  to 
look  at  her  would  have  been  capable  of  doing  with  their  fingers. 
And  if  they  paid  a  little  extra  she  would  draw  them,  roughly, 
anything  they  wanted  ;  or  cut  them  out  houses  or  dogs,  or  even 
likenesses  of  themselves  on  paper. 

Miss  Biffin,  it  is  pleasant  to  think,  thoroughly  enjoyed  her 
life,  and,  far  from  feeling  that  she  was  to  be  pitied  because  she 
had  no  hands,  was  quite  convinced  that  she  was  much  superior 
to  anybody  with  two. 

Perhaps  the  most  wonderful  of  all  the  '  Handless  Brigade ' 
was  a  man  called  William  Kingston,  who  was  living  in  a  village 
near  Bristol  in  1788.  In  that  year  a  Mr.  Walton  happened  to 
be  staying  in  Bristol  and  was  taken  to  see  this  marvel,  of 
whom  he  writes  an  account  to  his  friend  John  Wesley. 

On  the  entrance  of  the  two  gentlemen  into  his  house  King- 
ston did  not  lose  a  moment  in  giving  them  their  money's 
worth.  He  was  having  breakfast,  and  after  inviting  them 
to  sit  down,  took  up  his  cup  between  his  big  toe  and  the  next, 
and  drank  off  his  tea  without  spilling  a  drop.  After  waiting 
till  he  had  buttered  his  toast  and  eaten  as  much  as  he  wanted, 
Mr.  Walton  then  '  put  half  a  sheet  of  paper  upon  the  floor, 
with  a  pen  and  an  ink-horn.  Kingston  threw  off  his  shoes  as 
he  sat,  took  the  ink-horn  in  the  toes  of  his  left  foot,  and  held 
the  pen  in  those  of  his  right.  He  then  wrote  three  lines  as 
well  as  most  ordinary  writers,  and  as  swiftly.  He  writes  out,' 
continues  Walton,  '  his  bills  and  other  accounts.  He  then 
showed  how  he  shaves  with  a  razor  in  his  toes,  and  how  he 
combs  his  own  hair.  He  can  dress  and  undress  himself, 


THE  HANDLESS  BRIGADE  109 

except  buttoning  his  clothes,'  which  really  does  not  sound  half 
as  difficult  as  many  of  his  other  performances.  '  He  feeds 
himself  and  can  bring  both  his  meat  and  his  broth  to  his  mouth, 
by  holding  the  fork  or  spoon  in  his  toes.  He  cleans  his  own 
shoes  ;  can  clean  the  knives,  light  the  fire,  and  do  almost  every 
domestic  business  as  well  as  any  other  man.  He  can  make 
his  hen-coops.  He  is  a  farmer  by  occupation  ;  he  can  milk 
his  cows  with  his  toes,  and  cut  his  own  hay,  bind  it  up  in 
bundles,  and  carry  it  about  the  field  for  his  cattle.  Last 
winter  he  had  eight  heifers  constantly  to  fodder.  The  last 
summer  he  made  all  his  own  hay-ricks.  He  can  do  all  the 
business  of  the  hay-field  (except  mowing)  as  fast  and  as  well 
with  only  his  feet,  as  others  can  with  rakes  and  forks ;  he 
goes  to  the  field  and  catches  his  horse  ;  he  saddles  and  bridles 
him  with  his  feet  and  toes.  If  he  has  a  sheep  among  his  flock 
that  ails  anything,  he  can  separate  it  from  the  rest,  drive  it 
into  a  corner,  and  catch  it  when  nobody  else  can ;  he  then 
examines  it,  and  applies  a  remedy  to  it.  He  is  so  strong  in 
his  teeth  that  he  can  lift  ten  pecks  of  beans  with  them ;  he  can 
throw  a  great  sledge-hammer  with  his  feet  as  other  men  can 
with  their  hands.  In  a  word,  he  can  do  nearly  as  much 
without,  as  other  men  can  with,  their  hands.' 

'  He  began  the  world  with  a  hen  and  chicken ;  with  the 
profit  of  these  he  purchased  an  ewe.  The  sale  of  these  procured 
him  a  ragged  colt  and  then  a  better  ;  after  this  he  raised  a  few 
sheep,  and  now  occupies  a  small  farm.' 

It  would  be  interesting  to  know  how  many  of  these 
astonishing  feats  Mr.  Walton  actually  saw  Kingston  perform. 
But  at  any  rate  we  put  down  his  letter  with  the  impression 
that  to  be  born  with  fingers  is  a  distinct  disadvantage. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF  CHIEF 

ONCE  upon  a  time  a  town  near  the  North  Pacific  Ocean  suffered 
greatly  from  famine  and  many  of  the  Indians  who  lived  there 
died  of  hunger.  It  was  terrible  to  see  them  sitting  before  their 
doors,  too  weak  and  listless  to  move,  and  waiting  silently  and 
hopelessly  for  death  to  come.  But  there  was  one  boy  who 
behaved  quite  differently  from  the  rest  of  the  tribe.  For  some 
reason  or  other  he  seemed  quite  strong  on  his  legs,  and  all  day 
long  he  would  go  into  the  fields  or  the  woods,  with  his  bow  and 
arrows  slung  to  his  back,  hoping  to  bring  back  a  supper  for 
himself  and  his  mother. 

One  morning  when  he  was  out  as  usual,  he  found  a  little 
animal  that  looked  like  a  dog.  It  was  such  a  round,  funny 
little  thing  that  he  could  not  bear  to  kill  it,  so  he  put  it  under 
his  warm  blanket,  and  carried  it  home,  and  as  it  was  very  dirty 
from  rolling  about  in  the  mud  and  snow,  his  mother  washed 
it  for  him.  When  it  was  quite  clean,  the  boy  fetched  some  red 
paint  which  his  uncle  who  had  died  of  famine  had  used  for 
smearing  over  their  faces,  and  put  it  on  the  dog's  head  and 
legs  so  that  he  might  always  be  able  to  trace  it  when  they  were 
hunting  together. 

The  boy  got  up  early  next  morning  and  took  his  dog  into 
the  woods  and  the  hills.  The  little  beast  was  very  quick  and 
sharp,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the  two  got  quite  a  number 
of  grouse  and  birds  of  all  sorts  ;  and  as  soon  as  they  had 
enough  for  that  day  and  the  next,  they  returned  to  the 
wigwam  and  invited  their  neighbours  to  supper  with  them. 

A  short  time  after,  the  boy  was  out  on  the  hills  wondering 
where  the  dog  had  gone,  for,  in  spite  of  the  red  paint,  he  was 
to  be  seen  nowhere.  At  length  he  stood  still  and  put  his  ear 
110 


THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF  CHIEF  111 

to  the  ground  and  listened  with  all  his  might,  and  that  means 
a  great  deal,  for  Indian  ears  are  much  cleverer  at  hearing  than 
European  ones.  Then  he  heard  a  whine  which  sounded  as  if 
it  came  from  a  long  way  off,  so  he  jumped  up  at  once  and 
walked  and  walked  till  he  reached  a  small  hollow,  where  he 
found  that  the  dog  had  killed  one  of  the  mountain  sheep. 

'  Can  it  really  be  a  dog  ?  '  said  the  boy  to  himself.  '  I 
don't  know ;  I  wish  I  did.  But  at  any  rate,  it  deserves  to  be 
treated  like  one,'  and  when  the  sheep  was  cooked,  the  dog — if 
it  was  a  dog — was  given  all  the  fat  part. 

After  this,  never  a  day  passed  without  the  boy  and  the  dog 
bringing  home  meat,  and  thanks  to  them  the  people  began  to 
grow  fat  again.  But  if  the  dog  killed  many  sheep  at  once,  the 
boy  was  always  careful  to  give  it  first  the  best  for  itself. 

Some  weeks  later  the  husband  of  the  boy's  sister  came  to 
him  and  said  : 

'  Lend  me  your  dog,  it  will  help  me  greatly.'  So  the  boy 
went  and  brought  the  dog  from  the  little  house  he  had  made 
for  it,  and  painted  its  head  and  its  feet,  and  carried  it  to  his 
brother-in-law. 

'  Give  it  the  first  thing  that  is  killed  as  I  always  do,' 
observed  the  boy,  but  the  man  answered  nothing,  only  put 
the  dog  in  his  blanket. 

Now  the  brother-in-law  was  greedy  and  selfish  and  wanted 
to  keep  everything  for  himself  ;  so  after  the  dog  had  killed  a 
whole  flock  of  sheep  in  the  fields,  the  man  threw  it  a  bit  of 
the  inside  which  nobody  else  would  touch,  exclaiming  rudely  : 

'  Here,  take  that !     It  is  quite  good  enough  for  you.' 

But  the  dog  would  not  touch  it  either,  and  ran  away  to  the 
mountains,  yelping  loudly. 

The  man  had  to  bring  back  all  the  sheep  himself,  and  it  was 
evening  before  he  reached  the  village.  The  first  person  he 
saw  was  the  boy  who  was  waiting  about  for  him. 

'  Where  is  the  dog  ?  '  asked  he,  and  the  man  answered : 

'  It  ran  away  from  me.' 

On  hearing  this  the  boy  put  no  more  questions,  but  he 
called  his  sister  and  said  to  her : 


112     THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF  CHIEF 

'  Tell  me  the  truth.  What  did  your  husband  do  to  the  dog  ? 
I  did  not  want  to  let  it  go,  because  I  guessed  what  would 
happen.' 

And  the  wife  answered  : 

'  He  threw  the  inside  of  a  sheep  to  it,  and  that  is  why  it 
ran  off.' 

When  the  boy  heard  this,  he  felt  very  sad,  and  turned  to 
go  into  the  mountains  in  search  of  the  dog.  After  walking 
some  time  he  found  the  marks  of  its  paws,  and  smears  of  red 
paint  on  the  grass.  But  all  this  time  the  boy  never  knew 
that  the  dog  was  really  the  son  of  the  Wolf  Chief  and  had  been 
sent  by  his  father  to  help  him,  and  he  did  not  guess  that  from 
the  day  that  he  painted  red  paint  round  its  face  and  on  its 
feet  a  wolf  can  be  told  far  off  by  the  red  on  its  paws  and  round 
its  mouth. 

The  marks  led  a  long,  long  way,  and  at  length  they  brought 
him  to  a  lake,  with  a  town  on  the  opposite  side  of  it,  where 
people  seemed  to  be  playing  some  game,  as  the  noise  that 
they  made  reached  all  the  way  across. 

'  I  must  try  if  I  can  get  over  there,'  he  said,  and  as  he  spoke, 
he  noticed  a  column  of  smoke  coming  right  up  from  the  ground 
under  his  feet,  and  a  door  flew  open. 

'  Enter  !  '  cried  a  voice,  so  he  entered,  and  discovered 
that  the  voice  belonged  to  an  old  woman,  who  was  called 
'  Woman-always-wondering.' 

'  Grandchild,  why  are  you  here  ?  '  she  asked,  and  he 
answered  : 

'  I  found  a  young  dog  who  helped  me  to  get  food  for  the 
people,  but  it  is  lost  and  I  am  seeking  it.' 

'  Its  people  live  right  across  there,'  replied  the  woman. 
'  It  is  the  Wolf  Chief's  son,  and  that  is  his  father's  town 
where  the  noise  comes  from.' 

'  How  can  I  get  over  the  lake  ?  '  he  said  to  himself,  but 
the  old  woman  guessed  what  he  was  thinking  and  replied  : 

'  My  little  canoe  is  just  below  here.' 

'  It  might  turn  over  with  me,'  he  thought,  and  again  she 
answered  him : 

'  Take  it  down  to  the  shore  and  shake  it  before  you  get  in, 


THE  SON  OF  THE   WOLF  CHIEF  113 

and  it  will  soon  become  large.  Then  stretch  yourself  in  the 
bottom,  and,  instead  of  paddling,  wish  with  all  your  might  to 
reach  the  town.' 

The  boy  did  as  he  was  told,  and  by  and  bye  he  arrived 
on  the  other  side  of  the  lake.  He  shook  the  canoe  a  second 
time,  and  it  shrunk  into  a  mere  toy-boat  which  he  put  in  his 
pocket,  and  after  that  he  went  and  watched  some  boys  who 
were  playing  with  a  thing  that  was  like  a  rainbow. 

'  Where  is  the  chief's  house  ?  '  he  asked  when  he  was  tired 
of  looking  at  their  game. 

'  At  the  other  end  of  the  village,'  they  said,  and  he  walked 
on  till  he  reached  a  place  where  a  large  fire  was  burning,  with 
people  sitting  round  it.  The  chief  was  there  too,  and  the  boy 
saw  his  little  wolf  playing  about  near  his  father. 

'  There  is  a  man  here,'  exclaimed  the  Wolf  Chief.  '  Vanish 
all  of  you  !  '  and  the  wolf-people  vanished  instantly,  all  but 
the  little  wolf,  who  ran  up  to  the  boy  and  smelt  him  and  knew 
him  at  once.  As  soon  as  the  Wolf  Chief  beheld  that,  he 
said : 

'  I  am  your  friend ;  fear  nothing.  I  sent  my  son  to  help  you 
because  you  were  starving,  and  I  am  glad  you  have  come  in 
quest  of  him.'  But  after  a  pause,  he  added  : 

'  Still,  I  do  not  think  I  will  let  him  go  back  with  you  ;  but 
I  will  aid  you  in  some  other  way,'  and  the  boy  did  not  guess 
that  the  reason  the  chief  was  so  pleased  to  see  him  was  because 
he  had  painted  the  little  wolf.  Yet,  as  he  glanced  at  the  little 
beast  again,  he  observed  with  surprise  that  it  did  not  look  like 
a  wolf  any  longer,  but  like  a  human  being. 

'  Take  out  the  fish-hawk's  quill  that  is  hanging  on  the  wall, 
and  if  you  should  meet  a  bear  point  the  quill  straight  at  it,  and 
it  will  fly  out  of  your  hand.  I  will  also  give  you  this,'  and  he 
opened  a  box  and  lifted  out  a  second  quill  stuck  in  a  blanket. 
'  If  you  lay  this  side  on  a  sick  person,  it  will  cure  him  ;  and 
if  you  lay  the  other  side  on  your  enemy,  it  will  kill  him.  Thus 
you  can  grow  rich  by  healing  sick  people.' 

So  the  boy  and  the  Wolf  Chief  made  friends,  and  they 
talked  together  a  long  time,  and  the  boy  put  many  questions 
about  things  he  had  seen  in  the  town,  which  puzzled  him. 


114  THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF  CHIEF 

'  What  was  the  toy  the  children  were  playing  with  ?  '  he 
asked  at  last. 

'  That  toy  belongs  to  me,'  answered  the  chief.  '  If  it 
appears  to  you  in  the  evening  it  means  bad  weather,  and  if 
it  appears  in  the  morning  it  means  fine  weather.  Then  we 
know  that  we  can  go  out  on  the  lake.  It  is  a  good  toy.' 

'  But,'  continued  he, '  you  must  depart  now,  and,  before  you 
leave  eat  this,  for  you  have  a  long  journey  to  make  and  you 
will  need  strength  for  it ;  '  and  he  dropped  something  into  the 
boy's  mouth. 

And  the  boy  did  not  guess  that  he  had  been  absent  for  two 
years,  and  thought  it  was  only  two  nights. 

Then  he  journeyed  back  to  his  own  town,  not  a  boy  any 
more,  but  a  man.  Near  the  first  house  he  met  a  bear  and  he 
held  the  quill  straight  towards  it.  Away  it  flew  and  hit  the 
bear  right  in  the  heart ;  so  there  was  good  meat  for  hungry 
people.  Further  on,  he  passed  a  flock  of  sheep,  and  the  quill 
slew  them  all  and  he  drew  it  out  from  the  heart  of  the  last  one. 
He  cooked  part  of  a  sheep  for  himself  and  hid  the  rest  where 
he  knew  he  could  find  them.  After  that  he  entered  the  town. 

It  seemed  strangely  quiet.  What  had  become  of  all  his 
friends  and  of  the  children  whom  he  had  left  behind  him  when 
he  left  to  seek  for  his  dog  ?  He  opened  the  door  of  a  hut  and 
peeped  in  :  three  or  four  bodies  were  stretched  on  the  floor, 
their  bones  showing  through  their  skin,  dead  of  starvation ; 
for  after  the  boy  had  gone  to  the  mountains  there  was  no  one 
to  bring  them  food.  He  opened  another  door,  and  another 
and  another  ;  everywhere  it  was  the  same  story.  Then  he 
remembered  the  gift  of  the  Wolf  Chief,  and  he  drew  the  quill 
out  of  his  blanket  and  laid  one  side  of  it  against  their  bodies, 
so  that  they  all  came  to  life  again,  and  once  more  the  town  was 
full  of  noise  and  gaiety. 

'  Now  come  and  hunt  with  me,'  he  said ;  but  he  did  not  show 
them  his  quill  lest  he  should  lose  it  as  he  had  lost  the  dog. 
And  when  they  beheld  a  flock  of  mountain  sheep  grazing,  he 
let  fly  the  quill  so  quickly  that  nobody  saw  it  go,  neither  did 
they  see  him  pull  out  the  quill  and  hide  it  in  his  blanket. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF  CHIEF  115 

After  that  they  made  a  fire  and  all  sat  down  to  dine,  and  those 
who  were  not  his  friends  gave  him  payment  for  the  meat. 

For  the  rest  of  his  lif  e  the  man  journeyed  from  place  to  place, 
curing  the  sick  and  receiving  payment  from  their  kinsfolk. 
But  those  who  had  been  dead  for  many  years  took  a  long  while 
to  get  well,  and  their  eyes  were  always  set  deep  back  in  their 
heads,  and  had  a  look  as  if  they  had  seen  something. 

[Tlingit  Myths. 


BLIND  JACK  OF  KNARESBOROUGH 

THIS  is  the  story  of  a  blind  man  who  did  more,  without  any 
eyes  at  all,  than  many  people  can  do  with  two.  For  numbers 
of  children  need  really  to  be  taught  to  use  their  eyes,  or  they 
will  never  see  things  that  are  right  under  their  noses  ;  or  else 
they  will  only  see  exactly  what  they  are  looking  for,  and 
nothing  besides. 

Blind  Jack's  proper  name  was  John  Metcalfe,  and  he  was 
born  in  the  town  of  Knaresborough  in  Yorkshire,  in  1717.  His 
parents  seem  to  have  been  comfortably  off— small  farmers 
perhaps,  as  we  are  told  that  Jack  learned  to  ride  on  his  father's 
horses  ;  and  at  four  years  old  he  was  sent  to  school,  exactly  as 
a  child  of  working  people  would  be  now.  The  boy  was  very 
quick  and  had  a  good  memory  and  his  teachers  were  proud  of 
him,  and  prophesied  that  he  would  be  a  great  scholar,  and  who 
knew  if  some  day  he  might  not  be  Lord  Chancellor,  or  even 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury?  The  Metcalfes  quite  agreed  that 
nothing  was  more  likely ;  but  a  sudden  end  was  put  to  these 
dreams  when  one  morning  Jack  woke  with  a  rash  all  over  his 
face  and  chest,  and  the  doctor  declared  he  had  got  small-pox. 

Now  in  those  times,  before  babies  were  vaccinated,  small- 
pox was  a  most  terrible  disease  and  very  few  lived  through 
it  without  being  marked  in  one  way  or  another.  Jack  was 
very  ill,  but  he  does  not  appear  to  have  been  pitted  like  some 
of  the  other  children  who  suffered  from  it,  and  only  his 
mother  observed  that  when  the  crisis  was  over  and  the  boy 
was  getting  better  every  day,  and  beginning  to  chatter  again, 
he  did  not,  as  was  usual  with  him,  make  remarks  on  the 
things  he  saw  around  him  or  out  of  the  window.  Then  a 
dreadful  fear  shot  through  her  heart.  Could  it  be  that  he  was 
116 


BLIND  JACK  OF  KNARESBOROUGH          117 

blind  ?  With  great  difficulty  she  controlled  her  voice  and 
answered  the  child's  questions,  but  with  every  hour  she  under- 
stood more  clearly  that  what  she  dreaded  had  indeed  come  to 
pass.  By  and  bye  Jack  himself  \vondered  why  the  curtains 
always  seemed  to  be  drawn  in  his  room  and  asked  his  mother 
to  pull  them  back.  She  invariably  had  some  good  excuse  for 
his  remaining  in  the  dark,  and  little  by  little  the  truth  dawned 
on  him  also.  We  cannot  guess  at  the  poor  boy's  horror  at 
his  fate,  nor  at  his  struggles  to  behave  like  a  man,  but  as  he  grew 
gradually  accustomed  to  his  darkness  and  became  stronger,  he 
made  up  his  mind,  as  other  blind  people  have  done,  that  if  he 
was  so  unlucky  as  to  have  lost  his  eyes,  he  would  learn  to  get 
on  just  as  well  without  them. 

The  bare  idea  of  all  he  would  do  was  exciting.  As  Jack 
sat  by  the  fire  in  the  kitchen  or  lay  curled  up  in  the  window- 
seat  listening  to  the  horses  which  went  by,  he  began  to  make 
his  plans  for  the  future.  How  fortunate  it  was  that  he  was  able 
to  ride  already  ! — why,  most  of  the  boys  at  school,  who  were 
not  blind  at  all,  had  never  been  across  a  horse's  back,  far  less 
galloped  at  full  speed  up  and  down  the  street  as  Jack  had 
loved  to  do  !  So  he,  blind  though  he  was,  could  do  something 
which  they  could  not,  and  had  the  start  of  them  !  Now  that  he 
could  walk  about  the  room  without  falling  down  from  weakness 
ho  must  lose  no  more  time,  but  try  and  learn  the  positions  of 
the  chairs  and  tables  and  count  exactly  how  many  steps  there 
were  on  the  staircase,  so  that  he  might  soon  run  up  and  down 
them  as  fast  as  he  did  before.  The  next  thing  was  to  trust 
himself  in  the  street,  and  find  his  way  about.  He  was  rather 
shy  at  first,  and  felt  a  little  bewildered,  but  he  would  not  go 
home  till  he  had  gone  as  far  as  the  baker's  shop — up  and  down, 
up  and  down,  several  times  over. 

4  Well,  I  can  go  there  all  right,  if  mother  sends  me,'  he 
said  to  himself,  and  walked  home  in  triumph  to  tell  his 
parents. 

Having  once  made  a  beginning,  Jack  never  let  a  day  pass 
without  learning  to  do  something  fresh,  till  by  the  time  he  was 
nine  he  could  carry  messages  to  any  part  of  Knaresborough  as 


118          BLIND  JACK  OF  KNARESBOEOUGH 

well  as  another  boy.  He  had  a  good  many  friends  of  his  own 
age,  and  with  them  he  would  go  on  expeditions  into  the  woods 
near  the  town,  and  even  climb  trees  after  birds'  eggs.  Very 
quickly  the  boys  discovered  that  Jack  was  a  better  climber 
than  any  of  them.  He  was  so  light,  and  then  he  could  tell 
by  his  sense  of  touch  if  a  branch  was  rotten,  or  whether  he 
might  trust  himself  upon  it,  and  it  was  not  long  before  it  was 
Jack  who  was  always  sent  to  the  top  of  the  tree  while  the  rest 
remained  at  the  bottom.  His  mother  suffered  agonies  of  fear 
at  first  during  these  hours  that  the  boy  was  away,  but  she 
knew  it  was  no  use  trying  to  hinder  him,  and  after  a  while  she 
ceased  to  trouble,  as  Jack  never  came  to  harm,  and  she  had  too 
much  to  do  in  looking  after  the  younger  children  to  worry  about 
him.  It  was  impossible  to  keep  Jack  in  the  house  ;  if  he  was 
not  in  a  tree,  he  was  on  the  back  of  a  horse  or  exercising  a 
couple  of  young  hounds  that  his  father  had  given  him ;  but 
when,  about  thirteen,  he  showed  a  liking  for  music,  she  had 
him  properly  taught,  in  the  hope  of  inducing  him  to  stay  at 
home  in  the  winter  evenings. 

It  was  in  the  summer  after  this  that  Blind  Jack  made 
friends  with  some  bad  boys,  whose  chief  delight  consisted  of 
robbing  cherry  orchards  ;  not  so  much,  if  the  truth  be  told,  for 
the  sake  of  the  cherries,  as  for  the  pleasure  of  doing  what  they 
ought  not.  One  hot  night  Jack  stole  quietly  to  the  window 
of  the  room  which  he  shared  with  his  little  brothers,  and 
swinging  himself  down  through  the  branches  of  a  tree  as 
lightly  as  a  cat,  was  over  the  garden  wall  in  a  moment  and 
in  the  street.  Once  there  he  ran  quickly  to  the  porch  of  the 
parish  church,  reaching  it  as  the  clock  struck  twelve,  and  just 
as  the  rest  of  the  band,  who  were  waiting  for  him  there,  had 
almost  given  him  up.  They  set  off  silently  to  the  orchard 
and  soon  had  gathered  a  large  basket  of  ripe  cherries,  which 
had  been  intended  by  the  farmer's  wife  for  the  Knaresborough 
market  next  day.  Enchanted  with  then-  booty,  the  young 
thieves  hurried  back  in  order  to  eat  the  cherries  comfortably 
and  warmly  inside  the  church.  They  were  in  the  highest 
spirits  and  felt  that  after  their  success  they  were  capable  of 
capturing  a  fort  or  holding  an  army  at  bay.  So  seizing  the 


BLIND  JACK  OF  KNARESBOROUGH         119 

big  iron  ring  on  the  church  door  which  lifted  the  latch,  one  of 
the  leaders  exclaimed  loudly : 

'  A  tankard  of  ale  here  !  '  as  if  he  was  entering  a  tavern. 
Of  course  he  meant  nothing,  but  from  within  a  voice  answered : 

'  You  are  at  the  wrong  house.'  This  so  startled  the  boys 
that  they  were  struck  dumb,  hardly  believing  their  ears,  till 
Metcalfe  whispered  softly  : 

'  Didn't  you  hear  something  speak  in  the  church  ?  '  This 
put  their  own  fears  into  words,  and,  as  one  boy,  they  all  turned 
and  fled.  When  they  had  put  a  long  distance  between  them- 
selves and  the  churchyard  they  stopped,  feeling  quite  brave 
again,  and  began  to  discuss  the  matter  and  what  the  voice 
could  have  been ;  but  as  none  of  their  guesses  satisfied  them, 
they  determined  to  go  back  and  try  to  find  out  for  themselves. 

As  soon  as  they  were  again  in  the  churchyard  path,  they 
saw  bright  lights  in  the  church  and  at  once  fancied  it  was  on 
fire.  This  idea  was  delightful  to  them,  as  they  foresaw  all 
kinds  of  fun  in  helping  to  put  it  out.  But  before  they  even 
had  time  to  open  the  wrest  door  in  the  porch,  they  heard  once 
more  the  latch  being  lifted  from  the  inside.  All  their  old 
terror  returned,  and  they  rushed  home  as  fast  as  they  could,  the 
sexton's  son  even  jumping  into  his  mother's  bed  for  protection. 

The  laugh  against  him  was  loudest  of  all  next  day,  when  it 
was  discovered  that  the  supposed  fire  was  only  some  candles 
lit  by  the  sexton  himself,  who  was  in  the  church  with  the  grave- 
digger,  opening  a  vault  for  a  funeral  which  was  to  take  place 
early  in  the  morning ;  and  the  voice  which  had  so  frightened 
the  boys  was  that  of  the  grave-digger.  For  some  time  the 
young  thieves  were  jeered  at  by  the  whole  town,  and  grew  to 
hate  the  very  sight  of  a  cherry,  so  the  adventure  had  one  good 
result,  for  they  let  the  orchards  alone. 

Metcalfe  now  had  to  amuse  himself  in  some  other  way,  and 
as  many  of  his  friends  used  to  meet  every  evening  in  order  to 
bathe  in  the  pools  of  the  river  Nidd,  he  would  not  be  left 
behind,  and  persuaded  one  of  them  to  teach  him  to  swim  and 
dive.  Of  course,  all  those  things  would  have  been  impossible 
if  he  had  been  the  least  nervous  or  frightened,  but  Blind  Jack 
did  not  know  what  fear  was  of  any  earthly  thing.  At 


120          BLIND  JACK  OF  KNARESBOROUGH 

least  he  had  thought  at  the  time  that  the  voice  and  the  lights 
in  the  church  were  ghostly,  and  anybody  might  be  afraid  of 
ghostly  manifestations.  But  with  the  air  and  the  shouts  of 
other  boys  about  him,  he  was  as  brave  as  a  lion,  and  soon 
could  swim  farther  and  dive  deeper  than  any  of  them. 

The  Nidd  is  one  of  those  rivers  which  easily  rise  and  fall, 
and  it  is  full  of  '  holes,'  as  they  are  called,  where  the  water 
swirls  and  eddies,  and  whatever  is  swept  over  them  by  the 
current  always  stops  for  a  moment  and  then  slowly  sinks.  In 
some  strange  way  which  was  never  explained  by  him,  Jack 
contrived  to  reach  these  holes  without  being  drawn  into  the 
eddies,  and  it  quickly  became  a  regular  trade  with  him  to 
rescue  with  the  aid  of  a  hooked  stick  anything  which  had  sunk 
in  the  pool.  In  this  way  he  drew  up  several  pieces  of  valuable 
wood,  a  quantity  of  wool  swept  into  the  river  by  a  sudden 
flood,  and  even  the  body  of  a  drowned  man. 

Jack  was  now  about  fifteen  and  was  famous  throughout 
Knaresborough,  whish  had  grown  quite  proud  of  him.  He  had 
continued  to  practise  his  violin,  and  everybody  declared  that 
never  were  country-dances  danced  with  such  spirit  as  when 
Jack  was  the  fiddler.  So  very  speedily  he  got  an  engagement 
as  one  of  a  band  of  four  musicians  to  appear  at  the  Assembly 
Rooms  once  a  fortnight,  where  a  ball  was  given,  and  was  invited 
besides  to  many  other  places  round  about.  In  this  very  year 
too,  1732,  he  was  offered  the  post  of  fiddler  at  Harrogate,  for 
the  old  man  who  had  held  it  for  seventy  years,  and  was  now  a 
hundred,  could  no  longer  play  briskly  enough  to  please  the 
young  people.  Jack's  only  assistant  was  a  boy  younger  than 
himself,  whom  he  took  about  everywhere.  Perhaps  they  both 
rode  pillion — that  is,  one  behind  the  other;  for  Jack  had  saved 
up  his  earnings  and  bought  a  horse,  of  which  he  was  very  fond. 
On  its  back  he  was  to  be  seen  at  Ripon  or  Boroughbridge  or 
many  other  towns,  and  when  people  were  tired  of  giving  balls, 
Metcalfe  would  run  his  horse  at  the  small  races,  of  which  there 
are  so  many  in  Yorkshire.  Here  he  met  with  some  of  the 
gentlemen  who  lived  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  as  they  all 
admired  the  cleverness  and  courage  with  which  he  had 


ACK  IM.AYS  HIS  Finm.K  AT  THK  ASSKMBI.Y  BAI 


BLIND  JACK  OF  KNARESBOROUGH          121 

triumphed  over  his  blindness,  and  found  him  besides  an 
amusing  companion,  they  made  friends  with  him  and  sometimes 
invited  him  to  stay  in  their  houses  and  hunt  with  them.  To 
Mr.  Barlow,  of  Middleton  near  York,  he  once  paid  a  visit  of  six 
months,  and  while  there  became  acquainted  with  a  celebrated 
musician  called  Hebdin,  who  begged  him  to  come  and  see  him, 
so  that  they  might  practise  together.  Jack  accepted  the  kind 
offer  gladly,  and  when  no  hunting  was  to  be  had  he  went  to 
York,  and  would  play  for  hours  in  the  old  house  near  the  walls. 

He  had  been  there  one  day  at  the  end  of  his  visit  to  Mr. 
Barlow,  trying  over  a  new  piece  of  music  before  going  home 
to  his  parents  at  Knaresborough,  which  was  a  long  ride  even 
for  him.  By  this  time  he  could  find  his  way  through  all  the 
principal  streets,  and  as  he  was  passing  the  George  Inn,  the 
landlord  ran  out  and  told  him  that  a  gentleman  was  dining 
there  who  wanted  to  reach  Harrogate  that  night,  but  that  as 
he  was  a  stranger  he  must  have  a  guide. 

'  You  can  be  as  good  a  guide  as  anybody,'  added  the  man, 
if  you  are  going  that  way.' 

'  Yes,  I  can,'  answered  Metcalfe ;  '  but  you  mustn't  tell  him 
I  am  blind,  or  he  won't  believe  it.' 

'  Oh !  I  '11  take  care,'  replied  the  landlord.  '  Wait  here  ! 
he  will  be  out  in  a  minute,'  and  the  stranger  was  only  too 
thankful  to  start  at  once,  for  it  was  getting  late.  He  insisted, 
however,  that  Jack  should  be  given  a  cup  of  wine  before  they 
set  forth,  as  the  landlord  had  made  some  excuse  for  his 
refusal  to  enter  the  inn. 

The  gentleman  and  his  guide  wrere  passing  the  corner  of 
Ousegate,  when  Jack  was  startled  at  hearing  a  shout  of  '  There 
goes  Squire  Barlow's  Blind  Huntsman,'  but  he  perceived  from 
the  manner  in  which  his  companion  continued  the  conversation 
that  if  the  words  had  reached  liis  ears,  they  had  no  meaning 
for  him.  They  rode  steadily  on  for  some  distance,  Metcalfe 
carefully  placing  himself  a  little  in  front,  so  that  the  gentleman 
should  only  see  part  of  his  face  when  he  turned  to  answer  his 
questions.  Once  or  twice  he  had  some  fears  as  to  whether  he 
was  taking  the  right  road  or  not,  but  by  long  practice  he  had  so 
sharpened  his  other  senses  that  the  slightest  sign  was  sufficient 


122          BLIND  JACK  OF  KNARESBOROUGH 

for  him.  He  could  tell  by  the  feeling  of  the  wind  or  the  echo  of 
the  horses'  hoofs  if  they  were  in  the  open  country,  or  if  a  wall 
ran  along  one  side  of  the  road,  and  he  could  detect  at  once  the 
presence  of  water.  All  through  that  long  ride  he  only  made 
one  mistake  and  that  his  companion  never  guessed.  He  bent 
down  to  open  the  gate,  but  as  it  was  seven  months  since  he 
had  passed  that  way  he  approached  it  at  the  wrong  side,  which 
he  perceived  instantly  when  his  hand  touched  the  hinges. 
However,  he  did  not  lose  his  presence  of  mind,  and  quickly 
backed  his  horse,  exclaiming  as  he  did  so  : 

'  Confound  thee !  thou  always  goest  to  the  gate  heel  instead 
of  the  head.' 

'  He  does  seem  a  little  awkward,'  observed  the  gentleman. 
'  Let  me  try  :  mine  is  rather  good  at  a  gate,'  and  as  he  spoke 
he  rode  forward  and  swung  it  open. 

It  was  now  quite  dark,  and  though  of  course  that  made  no 
difference  to  Metcalfe,  his  companion  had  much  ado  to  see  his 
way.  However,  he  followed  his  guide  carefully  and  at  length 
they  found  themselves  in  the  streets  of  Knaresborough. 

'  Let  us  stop  and  have  a  bottle  of  wine,'  said  the  stranger, 
for  he  was  tired  from  being  so  many  hours  in  the  saddle  ;  but 
Jack  told  him  that  the  horses  were  too  hot  to  think  of  halting, 
and  they  pressed  on.  By  and  bye  as  they  were  passing  under 
an  oil  lamp  hung  by  a  chain  across  the  road,  a  boy  cried  out : 

'  That 's  Blind' Jack  !  ' 

'  Not  he,'  answered  another ;  '  that  fellow  is  much  too  dark.' 
Jack  chuckled  to  himself  as  he  listened  to  them,  but  never 
turned  his  head. 

Over  the  bridge  they  went  and  into  the  forest. 

'  What  is  that  light  I  see  ?  '  asked  the  gentleman  when 
they  had  gone  a  little  distance.  His  guide  guessed  that  it  must 
be  a  will-o'-the-wisp  from  some  swampy  ground  that  lay  there, 
but  was  careful  not  to  betray  himself  by  saying  so  lest  he  should 
be  mistaken. 

'  Do  you  not  see  two  lights  ?  '  he  inquired  by  way  of 
making  some  answer ;  one  on  the  right  and  the  other  on  the  left. 

'  No  ;  I  can  only  distinguish  one — one  on  the  right,'  replied 
the  stranger. 


BLIND  JACK  OF  KNARESBOROUGH          123 

'  Then  that  is  Harrogate,'  said  Jack.  '  We  shall  soon  be 
there  now,'  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  they  drew  rein  in  the 
courtyard  of  the  Granby  inn.  Early  hours  were  kept  in  those 
days  and  the  ostler  had  gone  to  bed,  so  Jack,  who  knew  the 
place  well,  stabled  the  horses  himself  after  rubbing  them  down. 
He  then  went  into  the  inn  where  his  companion  was  seated  by 
the  fire,  with  a  pewter  pot  of  hot  spiced  wine  beside  him. 

'  You  must  be  as  cold  and  tired  as  I  am,'  observed  the 
gentleman  ;  '  it  is  your  turn  to  have  a  drink.'  To  his  surprise, 
Metcalfe,  who  happened  to  be  thinking  of  something  else, 
stretched  out  his  hand  at  first  very  wide  of  the  mark,  a  fact 
which  did  not  escape  the  stranger's  eye,  though  Jack  at  once 
recollected  himself,  and,  noting  from  what  direction  the  voice 
proceeded,  picked  up  the  tankard,  took  a  good  draught  and 
left  the  room. 

'  My  guide  must  have  drunk  a  good  deal,  landlord,  since 
we  arrived,'  then  said  the  gentleman. 

'  And  what  makes  you  think  so,  sir  ?  '  asked  the  landlord. 

'  Well,  his  eyes  look  so  odd,  and  he  fumbled  about  so  after 
the  tankard.' 

'  Yes,  sir  ?     Why,  don't  you  know  he  is  blind  ? ' 

'  Blind  ! '  echoed  the  stranger ;  '  impossible  !  ' 

'  Yes,  sir,  as  blind  as  a  bat.' 

'  Blind  !  '  repeated  the  gentleman  again.  '  Call  him  back. 
I  should  like  to  speak  to  him,'  and  as  Jack  entered  he 
exclaimed : 

'  My  friend,  is  it  really  true  that  you  are  blind  ?  ' 

'  It  is  indeed,  sir.  I  lost  my  sight  when  I  was  six  years  old.' 

'  Had  I  known  that,  I  would  not  have  ventured  with  you 
for  a  hundred  pounds.' 

'  And  I,  sir,  would  not  have  lost  my  way  for  a  thousand,' 
answered  Jack  with  a  laugh,  as  he  pocketed  the  two  guineas 
held  out  to  him. 

Metcalfe, as  we  know, was  fond  of  races,  likeatrue  Yorkshire- 
man,  and  he  often  ran  his  horse  for  private  bets.  On  one 
occasion  he  laid  a  wager  with  some  other  young  men  that  he 
would  win  what  would  now  be  called  a  point-to-point  race — 


124         BLIND  JACK  OF  KNARESBOROUGH 

that  is,  posts  were  set  up  at  different  places  for  the  distance  of 
a  mile,  and  the  competitors  were  bound  to  pass  each  of  them. 
The  whole  course  was  three  miles,  and  they  were  obliged  to 
go  round  it  three  times.  Every  man  was  to  ride  his  own  horse, 
and  as  it  seemed  almost  impossible  that  even  Blind  Jack 
should  be  able  to  stick  to  the  course,  the  odds  were  heavy 
against  him. 

On  the  morning  of  the  race  Jack  might  have  been  seen  by 
anyone  who  had  got  up  early  enough,  going  round  to  the  four 
inns  that  Knaresborough  contained,  and  coming  away  from 
each  with  a  big  dinner-bell  in  his  hand,  and  numbers  of  little 
ones  in  a  bag.  These  he  distributed  among  his  friends,  and 
ordered  them  to  stand  out  at  every  post,  and  at  a  certain 
number  of  yards  in  between.  As  the  bells  were  to  be  rung  in 
turn,  he  had  a  perfect  chain  of  sound  to  guide  him  the  entire 
distance.  With  the  help  of  this,  he  felt  he  had  no  reason  to 
fear  any  rivals,  and,  as  his  horse  was  both  fast  and  steady,  he 
easily  won  the  race. 

When  the  cheers  of  the  crowd  had  somewhat  died  down, 
a  gentleman  named  Skelton  came  up  to  Metcalfe  and  offered  to 
make  a  bet  with  him  that  he  would  not  gallop  a  certain  horse 
of  his  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards,  and  pull  him  up  within 
two  hundred.  The  horse  chosen  was  noted  for  having  a  very 
hard  mouth,  and  to  be  ready  to  bolt  at  every  opportunity. 

Metcalfe  never  refused  a  wager  and  accepted  this  one 
eagerly,  but  stipulated  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  select 
his  own  ground. 

'  Very  well,'  answered  Skelton ;  '  but  remember  there  must 
be  no  hedges  or  walls.  Do  you  agree  to  that  ?  ' 

'  I  agree,'  said  Metcalfe  ;  '  see  that  the  stakes  are  deposited, 
and  I  will  let  you  know  later  where  the  wager  shall  come  off.' 

The  day  was  fixed  for  the  following  Saturday,  and  the 
night  before,  Skelton  received  a  message  bidding  him  to  be  at 
the  old  Spa  not  far  from  Harrogate  at  eleven  o'clock.  He 
arrived  punctually,  but  found  Metcalfe  and  his  horse  there 
before  him.  Now  Blind  Jack  knew  what  Skelton  did  not, 
that  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  the  old  Spa  there 
was  a  very  large  bog,  in  which  three  weeks  earlier  a  traveller 


BLIND  JACK  OF  KNARESBOROUGH          125 

had  got  stuck  in  the  dark,  and  would  inevitably  have  been 
sucked  down  had  not  Jack  heard  his  cries  and  managed  to 
rescue  him.  The  few  minutes  before  the  appearance  of 
Skelton  had  been  used  by  the  cunning  youth  to  place  a  friend 
near  the  entrance  of  the  bog,  with  orders  to  stand  with  his 
back  to  the  wind  and  sing  a  song  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  This 
was  to  be  Blind  Jack's  guide  to  the  direction  he  wanted. 

'  I  am  quite  ready,  you  see,'  he  cried,  as  Skelton  rode  up. 
'  Give  the  word  and  I  will  start.' 

'  Go! '  said  Skelton,  and  away  the  horse  bounded  at  the  top 
of  his  speed  straight  into  the  bog,  which  held  him  like  a  vice. 
Cautiously  Metcalfe  dismounted  and  picked  his  way  as  well  as 
he  was  able  till  he  was  on  firm  ground  again,  when  he  demanded 
the  money  he  had  won,  which  was  at  once  handed  over  to 
him.  He  then  went  back  to  extricate  his  horse,  but  this  was 
no  easy  matter,  for,  in  his  flounderings  to  get  free,  the  poor 
beast  had  only  sunk  deeper  and  deeper.  However,  by  the 
help  of  two  or  three  men  who  had  been  watching  the  wager, 
this  was  at  last  accomplished,  and  Jack  rode  smilingly  home, 
both  man  and  horse  covered  with  dirt  up  to  their  necks. 

Jack  grew  up  a  great  deal  more  quickly  than  most  boys, 
and  by  the  time  he  was  twenty  had  fallen  very  much  in  love 
with  a  girl  called  Dorothy  Benson,  who  lived  at  Harrogate. 
For  a  long  while  they  only  met  secretly,  as  both  well  knew  that 
the  elder  Bensons  would  never  allow  their  daughter  to  marry 
a  man  who  was  not  only  poor  and  blind,  but  earned  his  living 
by  fiddling  at  balls  all  over  the  country. 

Matters  were  in  this  state  when  Jack,  who  had  not  been  to 
Harrogate  for  seven  months,  suddenly  heard  that  he  had  a 
rival.  This  was  a  prosperous  shoemaker  called  Dickinson, 
much  favoured  by  Dolly's  parents,  and  they  seemed  to  have 
pressed  her  so  hard  to  accept  the  man  that  she  consented  to 
have  the  banns  published  in  church.  This  news  woke  up 
Metcalfe,  who,  thinking  he  had  won  Dolly's  heart,  was  taking 
things  rather  easily,  and  he  at  once  resolved  that  Miss  Benson 
should  be  the  wife  of  no  one  but  himself,  and  after  much 
consideration  he  laid  his  plans. 


126         BLIND  JACK  OF  KNARESBOROUGH 

Now  Dickinson,  in  order  to  celebrate  his  marriage,  had 
arranged  to  give  a  dinner  to  two  hundred  of  his  workpeople, 
and  this  took  place  on  a  Saturday  in  his  native  parish  of 
Kir kby- Overblow.  The  wedding  was  fixed  for  Monday,  and 
for  some  reason  it  was  to  be  at  Knaresborough,  though  the 
breakfast  was  to  be  held  at  Harrogate. 

On  the  Sunday  Blind  Jack  came  to  Harrogate  and  was 
riding  past  the  hotel  of  the  Royal  Oak,  when  he  was  startled 
at  the  sound  of  a  voice  close  to  him  saying  : 

'  One  wants  to  speak  with  you.'  He  pulled  up  his  horse  in 
surprise,  but  instantly  recognised  the  voice  to  be  that  of  a 
maid  of  the  Bensons.  She  turned  towards  the  stables,  telling 
him  to  follow,  and  there  was  Mistress  Dolly  herself,  anxious 
and  excited,  as  he  guessed  by  the  tremor  of  her  tone  as  she  said : 

'  I  knew  you  would  come,  so  I  sent  for  you.' 

'  Well,  lass,'  he  answered,  pretending  not  to  care,  though 
his  heart  was  beating  fast ;  '  thou  's  going  to  have  a  merry 
day  to-morrow  ;  am  I  to  be  the  fiddler  ?  ' 

'  Thou  never  shalt  fiddle  at  my  wedding,'  replied  she. 

'  Why — what  have  I  done  ? '  asked  Metcalfe,  bent  on  teasing 
her  ;  but  she  only  answered  darkly  that  matters  might  not  end 
as  some  folks  thought  they  would,  and  she  might  wish  things 
done  anotK  "  -j.  But,  though  her  words  might  not  have 
seer  fi3i  to  another  person,  Metcalfe  understood. 

'  W .  .dst  thou  rather  have  me  ?  Canst  thou  bear 

starvr 

'Ye         .a  she  ;    '  with  thee  I  can.' 

So  that  was  settled,  and  nothing  remained  but  to  arrange 
when  and  how  Dolly  could  escape  from  the  house. 

'  Thou  must  put  a  light  in  thy  window  when  everyone  is 
asleep  to-night,'  said  Jack. 

'  A  light ! '  cried  Dolly  ;  '  but  what  good  is  that  to  thee  ?  ' 

'  Ay,  a  light ;  and  as  for  the  "  good,"  leave  that  to  me,' 
answered  Jack,  who  had  already  thought  of  a  friend  to  help 
him.  '  And  now  farewell,  lest  they  should  seek  for  thee.' 

That  evening  he  went  to  a  trusty  man,  who  was  ostler  at 
the  inn  of  the  World's  End,  and  told  him  his  story. 

'  Canst  thou  borrow  thy  master's  mare  for  the  night  ? ' 


BLIND  JACK  OF  KNARESBOROUGH         127 

asked  Jack  anxiously.  '  She  is  used  to  carry  double,  and  my 
horse  is  not.' 

'  Ay,  if  she  is  in  her  stable  before  morning,'  replied  the 
ostler  ;  and  then  Jack  begged  him  to  be  at  Raffle's  shop  at  ten 
o'clock,  and  to  whistle  when  he  got  there  by  way  of  a  signal. 

Ten  o'clock  found  them  both  at  the  appointed  place,  but 
they  had  to  wait  some  time  before  the  ostler  announced  that 
the  promised  light  was  in  the  window.  Leaving  both  horses 
tied  up  a  little  way  off — for  Metcalf  chad  brought  his  own — they 
stole  up  to  the  Bensons'  house  and  gave  a  faint  tap  at  the  door. 
Dolly  was  expecting  Jack  and  came  out,  shutting  the  door 
after  her. 

'  Not  so  fast,'  said  he  ;  '  hast  thou  not  brought  any  gowns  ? 
It  would  be  well,  as  thou  mayst  not  see  thy  mother  for  some 
time  ;  and  where  is  thy  new  pillion  and  cloth  that  thy  father 
gavest  thee  ? ' 

'  Oh  dear  !  *  she  replied,  '  I  had  forgotten  all  that.  I  have 
nineteen  or  twenty  gowns,  and  sure,  I  cannot  bring  them  all. 
The  pillion  is  in  the  other  part  of  the  house,  but  we  must  have 
it.  As  the  door  is  shut,  I  will  wake  my  sister,  but  she  can 
keep  a  silent  tongue.'  She  then  threw  some  gravel  at  her 
sister's  window,  which,  like  her  own,  looked  out  a  to  the  street, 
and  in  another  moment  the  door  was  opened  '  j  W -8  ress  Anne. 

'  I  want  my  new  tabby  gown  and  the  pul'  .^risntued 
Dolly  ;  and  her  sister,  who  knew  more  about  '  affair 

than  Dolly  had  any  idea  of,  showed  no  surprise  quest 

or  at  the  sight  of  the  two  men  standing  in  the  sL 

'  The  pillion  ?  But  it  is  in  the  room  where  Dickinson  is 
lying,'  she  answered  in  some  dismay. 

'  Oh,  never  mind,  I  will  get  it  ! '  said  Dolly,  and,  going  up- 
stairs, softly  entered  the  room,  which  was  lit  by  moonlight,  and 
took  up  the  pinion  and  cloth,  which  had  been  placed  on  a  chair. 

'  Who  is  that  ? '  asked  Dickinson,  awakened  by  her  entrance. 

'  It  is  only  me,'  said  the  girl ;  '  I've  come  to  fetch  the  pillion, 
so  that  I  may  brush  it  and  have  it  ready  for  to-morrow.' 

'  That's  well  thought  on,'  replied  the  bridegroom  ;  and, 
turning  on  his  pillow,  he  fell  asleep  again.' 

Metcalf e  smiled  as  he  heard  the  latch  lifted,  and  took  the 


128         BLIND  JACK  OF  KNARESBOROUGH 

pillion  from  her.  The  ostler  put  it  on  his  master's  mare,  then 
jumping  into  the  saddle,  swung  Dolly  up  behind  him.  Met- 
calfe  mounted  his  own  horse,  and  they  rode  away  twelve  miles 
to  the  house  of  a  clergyman  whom  he  had  often  met  on  the 
hunting  field.  The  good  man  took  some  time  to  wake,  but  at 
length  he  came  down, and,  when  he  found  outwhatwas  required 
of  him,  hurried  into  his  gown  and  bands  without  asking 
questions,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Dorothy  Benson  had  become 
Mistress  John  Metcalfe.  This  time  it  was  Jack  who  mounted 
the  landlord's  mare,  and  leaving  Dolly  at  the  house  of  a  much- 
astonished  friend  five  miles  from  Harrogate,  himself  placed 
the  borrowed  animal  in  its  stall  at  the  World's  End.  He  was 
only  just  in  time,  for  the  landlord  had  taken  a  fancy  to  start 
early  for  Knaresborough,  and  it  would  have  gone  hard  with 
the  ostler  had  the  mare  not  been  in  its  place. 

Then  Jack  went  to  the  Queen's  Head,  and  played  his  fiddle 
as  he  often  did,  while  the  guests  were  breakfasting. 

By  this  time  Dolly's  elopement  had  been  discovered,  but 
nobody  suspected  Jack  of  being  concerned  in  it  till  a  young 
man,  who  had  been  one  of  the  girl's  suitors  and  had  noticed 
more  than  her  family  had  done,  told  her  brother  that  he  had 
better  go  and  question  Blind  Jack.  The  culprit,  when  asked, 
at  once  told  the  whole  story  and  declared  that  he  had  only 
stolen  Dolly  away  from  her  home  because  he  knew  that  her 
parents  would  never  consent  to  their  marriage. 

And  in  this  he  was  right,  for  they  both  vowed  that  if  they 
ever  met  him  they  would  kill  him ;  and  it  was  not  till  Dolly 
had  some  children  to  show  them,  that  she  was  taken  into 
favour  again. 


BLIND  JACK  AGAIN 

WOULD  you  like  to  hear  some  more  of  Blind  Jack  ?  This 
story  tells  how  he  joined  the  army  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland, 
which  was  sent  to  fight  Prince  Charlie  and  the  Highlanders  in 
1745. 

There  was  great  excitement  in  York  when  the  news  came 
that  the  Scotch  were  marching  south,  and  measures  were 
taken  to  raise  4,000  men  for  the  defence  of  the  country. 
£90,000  was  very  soon  subscribed  in  the  county,  and  this 
large  sum  was  intended  to  clothe  and  pay  volunteers  during 
the  time  their  services  were  needed.  The  gentlemen  of  York- 
shire held  a  meeting  in  the  castle  to  discuss  the  matter,  and 
Blind  Jack's  old  friend,  Thornton,  was  present.  When  the 
meeting  was  over  he  rode  back  to  Knaresborough  and  sent  for 
Metcalfe,  whom  he  asked  to  help  him  enlist  some  soldiers,  and 
further  begged  him  to  join  the  company  himself,  which  Jack, 
always  on  the  look  out  for  a  fresh  adventure,  was  delighted  to 
do.  He  lost  no  time  in  going  round  to  the  men  he  knew  hi  his 
native  town,  and  was  ready  to  promise  anything  that  he  thought 
was  likely  to  gain  him  what  he  wanted.  He  even  assured  these 
carpenters  and  blacksmiths  and  ostlers  and  ploughmen  that 
they  would  find  themselves  colonels  of  regiments,  or  holding 
some  well-paid  post  under  the  king,  as  soon  as  the  war — or 
bustle  as  he  termed  it — was  over. 

Out  of  the  hundred  and  forty  men  who  agreed  to  enlist 
on  receiving  five  shillings  a  head  from  Captain  Thornton,  sixty- 
four  were  chosen  and  clad  in  uniforms  of  blue  cloth,  with  buff 
facings  and  waistcoats,  made  by  Leeds  tailors.  These  tailors 
were  not  at  all  anxious  to  hurry,  and  declined  to  work  on 
Sunday,  upon  which  the  captain  sent  an  indignant  message  to 


130  BLIND  JACK  AGAIN 

ask  whether,  if  their  houses  caught  fire  on  a  Sunday,  they 
would  not  try  to  put  the  flames  out  ?  The  tailors  were  more 
easily  convinced  than  they  would  have  been  at  present,  and, 
on  receiving  the  message,  instantly  crossed  their  legs  and  took 
up  their  needles,  and  in  a  very  few  days  the  new  soldiers  were 
strutting  about  in  their  fine  clothes  or  attending  drill,  while 
waiting  for  the  swords  and  muskets  which  were  coming  down 
from  the  arsenal  in  the  Tower  of  London.  Then  the  captain 
invited  them  all  to  stay  at  Thorneville,  and  every  other  day 
a  fat  ox  was  killed  for  their  dinners. 

At  last  they  were  ready,  and  off  they  marched  to  Borough- 
bridge,  where  General  Wade's  army  was  halting  on  its  way  to 
the  north.  Very  smart  the  recruits  looked,  and  none  was 
smarter  than  Blind  Jack,  who  stood  six  feet  two  inches  in  his 
stockings.  In  the  evenings  he  always  went  to  the  captain's 
quarters,  and  played  '  Britons,  strike  home,'  and  other 
popular  tunes,  on  his  fiddle.  The  captain's  friends,  who  came 
over  to  see  what  was  going  on,  pressed  him  to  play  one  thing 
after  another,  and,  when  they  took  then:  leave,  pulled  out  their 
purses  and  offered  the  musician  a  guinea  or  two.  But  Jack 
always  refused  the  money,  as  he  knew  that  Thornton  would 
not  like  him  to  take  it. 

From  Boroughbridge  they  marched  to  Newcastle  to  join 
General  Pulteney.  Winter  had  now  set  in,  and  snow  often  fell 
heavily,  and  during  a  heavy  storm  the  troops  started  on  their 
march  westwards  to  Hexham.  They  had  a  terrible  day's 
journey  to  their  first  stopping-place  seven  miles  away,  and  it 
sometimes  took  three  or  four  hours  to  accomplish  one  single 
mile.  Although  the  ground  was  frozen  hard,  all  sorts  of 
obstacles  had  to  be  overcome,  and  ditches  filled  up,  so  that 
the  artillery  and  baggage-waggons  might  pass  over.  When 
at  last  a  halt  was  sounded,  after  fifteen  hours'  march,  the  frost 
was  so  intense  that  no  tent-pegs  could  be  driven  into  the  earth, 
and  the  men  were  forced  to  he  on  the  ground  without  any 
cover. 

After  various  marches  backwards  and  forwards  along  the 
northern  line,  Thornton's  company,  now  attached  to  General 
Hawley's,  reached  Edinburgh  and  proceeded  to  Falkirk,  where 


BLIND  JACK  AGAIN  131 

the  Highland  army  was  encamped  three  miles  away.  It  was 
very  cold  and  the  wind  blew  the  rain  straight  in  the  faces  of  the 
English,  and  also  wetted  their  powder,  so  that  their  guns  were 
quite  useless.  The  general,  observing  this,  ordered  the  troops 
to  fall  back  on  Linlithgow,  which  afforded  more  shelter,  and  as 
soon  as  the  town  was  reached  many  of  the  tired  men  entered 
the  houses  to  get  their  wet  clothes  dried,  or  borrow  fresh  ones, 
little  thinking  that  the  Highlanders  were  close  upon  them.  A 
large  number  of  English  prisoners  were  taken  in  the  sudden 
surprise  of  the  attack,  and  among  them  twenty  of  Thornton's 
men.  The  captain  himself  was  just  leaving  the  house  in 
which  he  had  taken  refuge,  when  he  heard  the  bagpipes  close 
to  him.  Quickly  and  noiselessly  he  rushed  upstairs,  and 
opening  the  first  door  he  saw,  stood  behind  it.  It  was  a  poor 
chance  of  escape,  but  the  only  one  that  offered  itself.  Luck, 
however,  attended  him,  for  a  man  merely  put  his  head  into 
the  room  and  exclaimed,  '  None  of  the  rascals  are  here,'  and 
went  off  to  search  the  rest  of  the  house  in  the  same  manner. 

As  soon  as  the  Highlanders  had  disappeared  down  the 
street,  the  mistress  of  the  house,  who  had  seen  the  captain's 
hurried  flight  up  the  staircase,  went  to  him  and  begged 
him  to  hide  in  a  closet  at  one  end  of  the  room,  wrhich  he 
gladly  did.  She  next  dragged  a  sort  of  kitchen  dresser  in  front 
of  the  cupboard  and  piled  plates  and  dishes  on  it,  so  that  no 
one  would  have  guessed  there  was  any  door  behind.  For- 
tunately the  closet  door  did  not  touch  the  floor  by  a  couple  of 
inches,  so  that  the  woman  was  able  to  thrust  in  food  under- 
neath. In  his  dripping  wet  clothes  and  in  this  cupboard 
about  five  feet  square,  the  captain  remained  for  nearly  a  week, 
in  a  room  which  was  constantly  full  of  Highlanders,  among 
them  being  Prince  Charlie's  secretary,  Murray  of  Broughton. 

All  this  time  Blind  Jack  was  busy  searching  for  his  master. 
He  had  been  present  at  the  battle  of  Falkirk  with  the  rest  of 
the  company,  and  when  the  order  for  retreat  was  given  he 
found  his  way  to  a  widow's  house  a  little  way  from  the  town, 
where  the  captain  had  left  two  of  his  horses.  There  they  were, 
safe  in  the  stable,  and  Metcalfe  hastily  saddled  them  both. 
He  was  leading  out  the  first  when  some  Highlanders  came  up. 


132  BLIND  JACK  AGAIN 

'  We  must  have  that  beast,'  said  they. 

'  You  will  have  nothing  of  the  sort,'  answered  Metcalfe. 

'  Shoot  him  :said  one  of  the  men,  and  as  Metcalfe  heard 
them  cock  their  muskets  he  exclaimed  quickly  : 

'  Why  do  you  want  him  ?  ' 

'  For  the  Prince,'  they  replied ;  and  Jack,  understanding 
that  he  must  give  way,  answered  : 

'  If  it  is  for  the  Prince,  you  must  have  him  of  course,'  and 
waited  till  the  sound  of  their  footsteps  died  away.  He  then 
led  out  the  other  horse,  which  they  had  not  noticed,  and  was 
about  to  jump  on  his  back  when  Thornton's  coachman,  who 
had  also  been  seeking  his  master,  came  up.  They  both 
mounted  the  horse  and  rode  to  join  the  army,  with 
which  Metcalfe  marched  on  to  Linlithgow  and  afterwards 
to  Edinburgh. 

Thornton's  company  were  one  and  all  very  anxious  about 
their  captain  and  could  not  imagine  what  had  become  of  him. 
They  knew  the  names  of  the  men  who  had  been  taken  prisoners 
and  of  those  who  were  killed  in  battle,  butjlhornton  had  dis- 
appeared as  completely  as  if  the  earth  had  swallowed  him  up. 
The  matter  reached  the  ears  of  the  superior  officers  in  Edin- 
burgh, and,  hearing  that  Metcalfe  was  one  of  the  troop,  sent  for 
him  to  give  them  what  information  he  could,  and  talso 
because  they  were  curious  to  see  this  blind  volunteer.  But 
Jack  could  tell  them  nothing  new  ;  only  that,  if  the  captain 
was  alive,  he  would  find  him. 

Now  he  happened  to  have  met  in  Edinburgh  a  Knares- 
borough  man  who  had  joined  Prince  Char  he,  and  this  fellow 
might,  Jack  thought,  be  of  great  help  to  him  in  his  search. 
So  he  sought  the  man  out,  and  told  him  that  he  was  tired  of 
serving  with  the  English  and  felt  sure  they  would  be  badly 
beaten,  and  he  would  like  a  place  as  musician  to  Prince  Charlie. 
The  Knaresborough  man  at  once  fell  into  the  trap  and  replied 
that  an  Irish  spy  was  going  to  join  the  Prince  at  Falkirk 
immediately,  and  Metcalfe  might  go  with  him  and  ask  for  an 
interview. 

The  first  difficulty  was  with  the  English  sentries  in  Edin- 
burgh, who  refused  to  let  them  pass  ;  but  Jack  overcame  this 


BLIND  JACK  AGAIN  135 

by  demanding  to  be  taken  before  the  officer  on  guard,  to  whom 
he  explained  the  real  object  of  his  journey. 

'  Give  it  up,  give  it  up  !  my  good  fellow,'  said  the  captain  ; 
'  it  is  certain  death  to  a  man  with  two  eyes,  and  you  have 
none,  though  you  manage  to  do  so  well  without  them.'  But 
Metcalfe  would  not  listen,  so  he  and  the  Irishman  were  allowed 
to  proceed,  and  after  various  adventures  arrived  safely  in 
Falkirk. 

All  this  time,  as  we  have  said,  Thornton  had  been  caged  up 
in  the  cupboard  in  his  wet  clothes,  till  he  was  almost  too  stiff 
to  stoop  to  pick  up  his  food  when  the  woman  thrust  it  under 
his  door.  He  caught  a  bad  cold  besides,  and  more  than  once 
could  not  restrain  his  cough,  even  when  he  knew  the  soldiers 
were  in  the  room.  They  heard  it  of  course,  but  as  the  par- 
titions were  very  thin,  they  took  for  granted  it  was  next  door, 
for  the  dresser  completely  hid  all  trace  of  an  opening. 

But  by  Monday  night  he  felt  he  could  not  stay  in  the  closet 
any  longer,  and  when  the  woman  brought  him  his  provisions 
for  the  next  day  he  told  her  that  he  would  not  die  there 
like  a  rat  in  a  hole,  but  would  come  out  whatever  it  cost 
him. 

'  Remain  there  till  to-morrow  night,'  she  said,  '  and  I  will 
contrive  some  way  of  escape  for  you,'  and  so  the  poor  captain 
was  forced  to  pass  another  twenty-four  hours  in  his  most 
uncomfortable  prison.  Then,  when  the  soldiers  had  all  gone 
off  to  their  night  duty,  the  landlady  brought  a  carpenter 
whom  she  could  trust  to  take  away  the  dresser.  Oh  !  how 
thankful  the  captain  was  to  stretch  himself  again,  and  to  put 
on  a  Highland  dress  and  a  black  wig  which  the  woman  brought 
him.  He  had  only  ten  guineas  with  him,  and  eight  of  them  he 
thankfully  gave  to  the  landlady  while  the  other  two  he  be- 
stowed on  the  carpenter.  As  he  was  bid,  he  slung  over  his 
shoulder  a  bag  of  tools,  and  hid  himself  downstairs  till  it  grew 
light  and  people  were  setting  out  to  work,  when  he  and  the 
carpenter  started  together  just  four  hours  before  Metcalfe 
entered  Falkirk.  On  the  way  to  Edinburgh  they  had  a  terrible 
fright,  and  narrowly  escaped  falling  into  the  hands  of  a  large 
body  of  Highlanders,  but  at  length  they  reached  a  house 


136  BLIND  JACK  AGAIN 

belonging  to  a  friend  of  the  carpenter's,  who  lent  Thornton 
a  horse,  which  carried  him  in  safety  to  Edinburgh. 

Metcalfe  meanwhile  had  fared  rather  badly.  His  dress, 
consisting  of  a  plaid  waistcoat  which  he  had  borrowed,  and  a 
blue  coat  faced  with  buff,  the  uniform  of  his  company,  had 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  Highlanders.  He  told  them  that 
he  had  been  fiddling  for  the  English  officers,  who  had  given 
him  the  coat  (which  belonged,  he  said,  to  a  man  killed  in  the 
battle)  as  payment.  The  men  would  have  been  satisfied  had 
not  a  person  chanced  to  pass  who  had  often  seen  Jack  at 
Harrogate,  and  said : 

'  You  had  better  not  let  him  go  without  a  search  ;  I  don't 
like  the  look  of  him.'  Accordingly  Metcalfe  was  removed  to  the 
guard -room  and  his  clothes  examined  all  over  to  see  if  they  con- 
cealed any  letters.  The  guard  even  split  in  two  a  pack  of 
cards  which  Metcalfe  had  in  his  pocket,  imagining  that  he 
might  have  contrived  to  slip  a  piece  of  thin  paper  between 
the  thick  edges  of  the  cardboard  then  used.  The  cards,  how- 
ever, had  not  been  employed  for  this  purpose,  and  after  three 
days'  confinement  in  a  loft  Metcalfe  was  tried  by  court-martial 
and  acquitted,  and  given  besides  permission  to  go  to  the 
Prince.  By  this  time,  however,  he  had  somehow  discovered 
that  Thornton  had  escaped  from  Falkirk,  so  he  was  only 
anxious  to  return  to  the  British  army  as  fast  as  he  could.  The 
Irish  spy  was  equally  desirous  of  taking  letters  to  Edinburgh 
to  some  of  the  friends  of  Prince  Charlie,  who  were  to  be  found 
there,  but  did  not  know  how  to  pass  the  English  sentries,  a 
difficulty  easily  solved  by  Blind  Jack,  who  assured  him  that 
he  would  tell  them  he  was  going  to  Captain  Thornton. 

Not  far  from  the  English  outposts  the  two  travellers  met 
with  an  officer  who  knew  Metcalfe,  and  informed  him  to  his 
great  delight  that  the  captain  was  in  Edinburgh,  so  when  the 
sentries  were  passed  he  bade  farewell  to  the  Irishman  after 
promising  to  meet  him  the  next  night,  and  went  straight  to  the 
captain. 

'  You  have  given  me  a  great  deal  of  trouble,'  was  Metcalfe's 
greeting.  '  Really,  people  might  manage  to  come  home  from 
market  without  being  fetched.' 


BLIND  JACK  AGAIN  137 

'  Well,  so  I  did,'  answered  Thornton  with  a  laugh.  '  But 
what  is  to  be  done  now,  as  I  have  neither  clothes  nor  cash  ?  ' 

'  Oh,  I  can  get  you  both  !  '  replied  Metealfe ;  '  some  friends 
I  have  here  have  often  heard  me  speak  of  you,  and  they  will 
trust  you  for  payment.'  And  he  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and 
quickly  borrowed  thirty  pounds,  which  provided  the  captain 
with  all  the  clothes  he  wanted. 

In  January  1746  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  Command er-in- 
Cliief  of  the  English  army,  arrived  in  Edinburgh,  and  as  Thorn- 
ton was  a  great  friend  of  his,  the  Duke  heard  all  his  adventures 
and  the  share  Blind  Jack  had  taken  in  them.  He  then  sent 
for  Metcalfe,  and  being  much  interested  in  his  story  often 
watched  him  on  the  march,  and  noticed,  to  his  surprise,  that,  by 
listening  to  the  drum,  Jack  was  able  to  keep  step  with  the  rest. 

The  British  forces  proceeded  northwards  as  far  as  Aberdeen, 
where  the  Duke  suddenly  determined  to  give  a  ball  to  the  ladies 
and  begged  that  Thornton  would  allow  Metcalfe  to  play  the 
country  dances,  as  the  wind  instruments  of  the  German 
musicians  were  unsuitable.  It  must  have  been  rather  a 
strange  ball,  as  up  to  the  last  moment  it  was  quite  uncertain 
whether  they  might  not  have  to  fight  instead  of  dance,  and 
the  invitations  were  only  sent  out  at  five  o'clock  for  the  com- 
pany to  assemble  at  six.  Twenty-five  couples  were  present 
and  kept  Metcalfe  hard  at  work  till  two  the  next  morning  ; 
the  Duke,  then  about  twenty-five,  dancing  away  with  the  rest. 

The  English  then  turned  westwards  and  defeated  the 
Highlanders  at  Culloden,  near  Inverness,  after  which  all 
British  prisoners  were  set  free,  and  the  volunteers  returned 
home. 

Captain  Thornton  and  Metcalfe  rode  back  together  as  far 
as  Knaresborough,  where  they  parted  company.  Blind  Jack's 
wife  had  suffered  a  great  deal  of  anxiety  during  the  eight 
months  of  his  absence,  for  she  knew  that  his  love  of  adventure 
would  tlirust  him  into  all  kinds  of  unnecessary  dangers.  But 
here  he  was,  none  the  worse  for  the  hardships  he  had  gone 
through,  and  in  the  best  of  spirits,  but,  to  Dolly's  great  relief, 
quite  ready  to  stay  at  home  for  a  bit. 

According  to  his  own  account — and  again  we  ask  ourselves 


138  BLIND  JACK  AGAIN 

how  much  we  may  believe  of  Metcalfe's  amazing  story — there 
was  no  end  to  the  different  trades  he  carried  on  successfully 
for  the  rest  of  his  life.  He  soon  grew  restless  and  went  to 
Aberdeen  to  buy  a  large  supply  of  stockings,  which  he  sold  at 
a  profit  among  his  Yorkshire  friends  ;  for  a  while  he  became  a 
horse  dealer,  feeling  the  animals  all  over  before  he  made  an 
offer  to  purchase,  so  that  he  knew  exactly  what  condition  they 
were  in,  and  their  good  and  bad  points.  He  next  turned 
smuggler,  getting  a  great  deal  of  excitement  out  of  cheating 
the  Government,  and  finally  took  to  building  bridges  and 
making  roads.  In  1751  he  started  a  coach  between  York  and 
Knaresborough,  which  he  drove  himself.  It  ran  twice  a  week 
in  the  summer  and  once  in  the  winter ;  and  as  soon  as  he  grew 
tired  of  this  employment,  for  he  detested  being  obliged  to 
do  things  at  stated  times,  he  managed  with  his  usual  luck 
to  get  the  business  taken  off  his  hands. 

We  bid  farewell  to  him  in  1795  when  he  was  seventy-eight, 
but  still  strong  and  active  and  able  to  walk  ten  miles  in  three 
and  a  half  hours.  His  friendship  with  Colonel  Thornton  was 
as  fast  as  ever,  and  he  remained  a  welcome  guest  in  several 
of  the  big  houses  round  York  and  Knaresborough.  And  if 
perhaps  he  was  not  quite  so  wonderful  a  person  as  he  thought, 
and  saw  some  of  his  deeds  through  a  magnifying  glass,  there 
is  no  doubt  that  he  was  a  very  uncommon  man,  worthy  of 
all  admiration  for  not  allowing  his  life  to  be  spoilt  by  his 
blindness. 


THE  STORY  OF  DJUN 

ONCE  upon  a  time  a  famine  broke  out  among  the  tribe  of  the 
Tlingits,  and  one  of  their  girls,  who  was  an  orphan  and  had 
to  look  after  herself,  would  have  fared  very  badly  had  she  not 
now  and  then  been  given  some  food  by  her  father's  sister. 
But  this  did  not  happen  often,  for  everybody  was  almost 
starving,  and  it  was  seldom  that  they  had  any  food  for 
themselves,  still  less  for  anyone  else. 

Now  the  girl,  whose  name  was  Djun,  heard  some  of  the 
women  planning  to  go  to  the  forest  and  dig  roots,  and  though 
she  wished  very  much  to  accompany  them,  they  would  not 
take  her. 

'  You  will  bring  us  bad  luck,'  they  said,  and  struck  her 
fingers  when,  in  despair  at  being  left  behind,  she  grasped  the 
side  of  the  canoe.  But  though  the  girl  was  obliged  to  loosen 
her  hold  from  pain,  she  was  so  hungry  that  she  would  not  be 
beaten  off,  and  at  last  her  father's  sister,  who  was  one  of  the 
party,  persuaded  the  others  to  let  her  go  with  them.  So  she 
jumped  in  and  paddled  away  to  the  forest. 

All  that  day  the  women  hunted  for  roots  till  they  had 
collected  a  large  pile,  and  had  even  caught  some  salmon  in  the 
river  as  well,  and  as  evening  drew  on  they  prepared  to  encamp 
for  the  night,  -ind  built  a  fire  to  warm  them  and  to  cook  some 
of  the  roots.  But  the  girl,  who  had  wandered  away  by  herself 
as  soon  as  they  had  landed,  did  not  return,  and  the  women  were 
angry,  and  said  that  if  she  did  not  choose  to  come  back,  she 
might  stay  in  the  forest  for  ever.  And  the  next  morning,  when 
they  started  for  home,  they  threw  water  on  the  fire  so  that 
Djun  might  not  be  able  to  cook  her  food,  if  she  had  any 
to  cook.  However,  the  girl's  aunt  managed  to  steal  a  burning 
coal  which  lay  on  the  fire,  and,  unseen  by  the  rest,  threw  it  into 
139 


140  THE  STORY  OF  DJUN 

a  deserted  brush-house  where  they  had  slept,  and  put  a  piece  of 
dried  salmon  with  it.  Just  as  she  had  done  this  she  caught 
sight  of  the  girl  hiding  behind  the  brush-house,  and  went  to 
speak  to  her  ;  for  the  other  women  were  too  busy  packing  the 
food  into  the  boat  to  notice  what  she  was  doing. 

'  Are  you  not  coming  with  us  ?  '  she  asked,  and  Djun 
answered : 

'  No  ;  as  they  don't  want  to  take  me,  I  had  better  stay 
here.' 

'  Well,  I  have  put  a  live  coal  in  that  brush-house  for  you 
and  a  piece  of  salmon,'  said  her  aunt,  '  so  you  will  have 
something  to  eat  for  a  day  or  two.' 

The  girl  did  not  leave  her  hiding-place  till  the  boat  was  out 
of  sight,  and  then  she  made  a  big  fire  from  the  burning  coal,  and 
cooked  her  roots  and  her  salmon  ;  but  though  they  smelt  very 
good,  and  she  was  hungry,  she  did  not  somehow  feel  as  if  she 
could  eat.  So  she  soon  got  up  and  went  farther  into  the 
forest  and  dug  some  more  roots. 

'  I  shall  be  almost  starving  by  the  evening,'  thought  she, 
'  and  I  will  eat  them  then  ; '  but  when  evening  came  she  had 
no  more  appetite  than  in  the  morning,  so  she  curled  herself 
up  in  a  corner  and  fell  asleep,  for  she  was  very  tired. 

She  was  awakened  early  next  day  by  a  rushing  of 
wings,  and,  looking  out  of  the  door,  found  a  flock  of  birds 
sweeping  by.  But  there  was  nothing  very  uncommon  in  that, 
and  she  lay  down  again  and  slept  for  several  hours  longer. 
Then  she  got  up  and  walked  some  distance  till  she  reached  a 
flat  plain,  where  the  best  roots  grew,  but  the  flock  of  birds  had 
found  them  out  also,  and  were  feeding  upon  them. 

When  they  saw  her  they  flew  away,  and  she  went  to  a  spot 
covered  with  dead  grass,  for  she  expected  that  would  be  a 
good  place  to  dig  in.  To  her  surprise,  under  the  dead  grass 
lay  several  big  canoes  filled  with  oil,  dried  halibut  and  dried 
salmon. 

'How  lucky  I  am ! '  she  said  to  herself ;  *  it  was  well  indeed 
that  I  did  not  return  with  the  others,'  and  she  broke  off  a  piece 
of  salmon  and  tried  to  eat  it,  but  she  could  not. 


THE  STORY  OF  DJUN  141 

'  What  is  the  matter  with  me  ?  '  she  wondered.  '  I  wish 
my  aunt  were  here,'  and  she  felt  rather  frightened.  And  the 
next  day  she  grew  more  frightened  still,  for  she  found  out  that 
the  birds  were  spirits,  and  it  was  they  who  were  preventing  her 
from  eating  food,  so  that  she  might  become  a  great  shaman  or 
medicine-man.  After  a  little  while  her  eyes  were  opened, 
and  she  understood  many  things  she  had  never  guessed  at, 
and  the  spirit-birds  she  had  seen  took  possession  of  her, 
and  others  came  from  the  woods  and  the  sea,  and  sang 
to  her. 

At  first  she  went  two  or  three  times  every  day  to  visit  the 
buried  canoes  and  to  dig  for  roots,  but  she  quickly  gave  that 
up,  for  she  had  nothing  with  which  to  sharpen  the  sticks  she 
used  instead  of  spades ;  and  besides,  what  was  the  use  of 
digging  for  roots  if  you  could  not  eat  them  ?  Meanwhile,  in  the 
village  the  girl's  aunt  mourned  for  her,  as  she  felt  sure  Djun 
must  by  this  time  be  dead  of  hunger. 

'  I^am  very  lonely  :  I  wish  some  of  my  old  friends  would 
come  to  see  me,'  thought  Djun  when  she  had  been  living  by 
herself  for  several  months,  and  the  next  morning  a  canoe 
appeared  in  sight,  and  in  it  were  seated  some  people  whom  she 
knew.  Then  Djun  was  happy  indeed,  and  she  bade  them 
follow  her  to  the  brush-house,  and  gave  them  food  out  of  the 
canoes  ;  for  two  or  three  days  they  stayed,  digging  for  roots  and 
for  anything  else  they  could  get,  and  at  the  end  of  the  time 
Djun  said  to  them  : 

'  It  is  well  that  you  should  go  again,  but  be  careful  not 
to  take  with  you  any  of  the  food  that  I  have  given  you.  Tell 
my  friends  that  I  am  alive,  and  beg  my  aunt  to  come  and 
visit  me.' 

So  the  people  of  the  canoe  returned  to  the  village,  and  told 
such  tales  of  the  food  they  had  received  from  Djun  that  all  the 
townsfolk  hastened  to  get  into  their  canoes  and  paddled 
straight  off  to  the  place  where  she  was  living. .  When  they  drew 
near  enough  to  see  the  brush-house,  they  beheld  it  surrounded 
by  thousands  of  birds  that  seemed  to  stretch  right  upwards 
from  the  earth  to  the  sky.  They  also  heard  the  shaman's 


142  THE  STORY  OF  DJUN 

voice  and  the  sound  of  singing,  but  as  soon  as  they  approached 
closer  to  the  brush-house,  the  birds  flew  away. 

After  that  the  shaman  went  out  to  meet  them,  and  she 
asked : 

'  Where  is  my  aunt  ?  I  want  her  ; '  and  when  her  aunt 
came  Djun  gave  her  everything  that  was  stored  in  one  of  her 
buried  canoes,  and  then  she  said: 

'  I  should  like  two  of  the  women  to  stay  with  me  and  help 
me  with  my  singing,'  and  one  after  another  the  chief  women 
of  the  tribe,  with  their  faces  newly  painted,  rose  up  in  the 
canoes  ;  but  she  would  have  none  of  them,  and  chose  two  girls 
who  were  orphans  like  herself,  and  had  been  treated  very 
badly  by  their  kinsfolk. 

'  The  rest  can  come  ashore,'  she  said,  '  and  camp  out  here,' 
but  she  took  the  orphans  and  her  aunt  into  the  brush-house. 

Now  these  high-born  women  had  brought  their  slaves  with 
them,  and  Djun  took  the  slaves  in  exchange  for  food,  and  put 
necklaces  and  paint  and  feathers  and  fine  robes  upon  the 
orphans.  And  the  whole  of  the  village  people  stayed  with  her 
a  long  while,  and  when  they  got  into  the  canoes  again  they 
were  fat  and  strong  with  all  that  Djun  had  given  them. 

For  some  time  Djun  lived  quite  happily  in  the  brush-house 
now  that  she  had  some  companions ;  then  a  longing  took 
hold  of  her  to  go  back  to  her  own  village,  so  she  worked  magic 
in  order  to  make  the  chief  of  the  town  fall  ill,  and  the  people, 
who  had  learnt  that  she  had  become  a  shaman,  sent  a  canoe 
to  fetch  her  and  offered  her  much  payment  if  she  would  cure 
him. 

The  family  of  Djun  the  shaman  was  one  of  the  noblest 
in  the  tribe,  but  misfortune  had  overtaken  them.  One  by 
one  they  had  all  died,  and  when  the  girl  came  back  to  the 
village  nothing  remained  but  the  posts  of  her  uncle's  house, 
while  grass  had  sprouted  inside  the  walls.  She  beheld  these 
things  from  the  canoe  and  felt  very  sad,  but  she  bade  the 
slaves  cease  paddling,  as  she  wished  to  land.  Then  she  drew 
out  an  eagle's  tail,  and,  holding  it  up,  blew  upon  it  and  waved 
it  backwards  and  forwards.  After  she  had  done  this  four 


THE  STORY  OF  DJUN  143 

times,  the  posts  and  the  grass  disappeared,  and  in  their  place 
stood  a  fine  house — finer  and  larger  than  the  one  the  chief 
had  lived  in. 

'  Bring  in  whatever  the  canoe  contains,'  she  said ;  and 
when  everything  was  ready  she  went  into  the  house,  and 
the  two  orphan  girls  went  with  her. 

'  The  chief's  daughter  is  ill  as  well  as  her  father,'  so  Djun 
heard  after  she  had  been  back  in  the  village  for  a  few  days,  and 
she  waited  in  the  house,  expecting  to  be  summoned  to  work  a 
cure.  But  though  they  had  sent  for  her  while  she  was  living 
far  from  them,  now  that  she  was  amongst  them  again  she  looked 
so  like  the  girl  they  had  known  from  a  child  that  the  people 
could  not  believe  she  could  be  a  real  shaman,  and  called  in 
others.  However,  in  spite  of  the  care  of  these  medicine  men, 
both  the  chief  and  his  daughter  became  worse  and  worse,  and  in 
despair,  their  kinsfolk  suddenly  bethought  themselves  of  Djun. 
The  girl  was  not  in  the  house  at  the  time  that  the  messenger 
arrived,  but  one  of  the  orphans  met  him,  and  asked  : 

'  How  much  will  they  pay  the  shaman  if  she  cures  them  ?  ' 

'  Two  slaves,'  was  the  answer. 

'That  is  not  enough,'  said  the  child;  'go  back  and  tell 
them  so.' 

And  the  messenger  went  back  and  came  again. 

'  How  much  will  they  pay  the  shaman  ?  '  asked  the  child 
as  she  opened  the  door  to  him. 

;  Two  slaves  and  much  goods,'  answered  he. 

'  That  is  well ;  she  will  come,'  said  the  child,  and  the 
messenger  returned  with  her  answer. 

'  We  will  go  together,'  Djun  said  to  the  orphans,  and  the 
three  set  off  at  once  to  the  house  of  the  chief.  Inside,  there 
was  a  crowd  of  people,  except  for  an  empty  space  round  the 
fire  where  lay  the  chief  and  his  daughter.  The  shaman  sat 
down  between  them  and  worked  all  the  spells  she  knew,  but 
they  grew  no  better.  Then  she  rose  and  walked  through  the 
people  in  the  room,  and  when  she  had  looked  at  each  one  she 
said  to  the  chief  : 

'  The  witch  that  is  killing  you  two  is  not  here.' 


144  THE  STORY  Of  DJUN 

As  soon  as  the  people  heard  that,  they  left  the  house  aiu 
brought  in  those  of  the  villagers  who  had  not  come  before,  fo: 
there  was  not  room  for  a  very  great  number.  For  the  seconc 
time  Djun  went  among  them  and  examined  them,  and  ther 
she  repeated  : 

'  The  witch  is  not  yet  here.'  But  the  spirits,  which  showec 
her  what  others  could  not  see,  opened  her  eyes,  and  after  £ 
moment  she  spoke  again. 

'  The  road  of  the  witch  is  very  clear  now  ;  it  runs  straighl 
to  this  house.'  After  that  she  waited  in  silence,  and  the 
people  were  silent  also.  At  last  they  heard  a  bird  whistling 
in  the  woods  at  the  back,  and  the  shaman  said : 

'  She  is  coming  now ;  open  the  door  and  let  her  in,'  and 
they  flung  the  door  wide,  and  there  flew  in  a  wild  canary. 

'  Go  and  sit  between  the  two  sick  persons,'  said  Djun,  and 
the  canary  fluttered  towards  them,  making  such  a  noise  with 
her  wings  that  they  were  frightened  and  shrank  away  from  her. 
And  the  shaman  desired  a  man  to  tie  the  bird's  wings  to  hex 
side  so  that  she  might  be  still.  Next  a  rolling  sound  such  as 
thunder  makes  a  long  way  off  filled  the  air. 

'Here  come  her  children,'  cried. the  shaman.  'Stop  al] 
the  holes  so  that  they  may  not  enter,  for  they  are  very  angry.' 
But  though  the  holes  were  stopped,  there  were  cracks  in  the 
boards,  and  the  birds  flew  in  through  the  cracks  till  the  house 
became  full  of  them,  and  the  noise  was  deafening.  They  flew 
round  and  round  among  the  people,  and  whosoever  they 
touched  received  a  cut  or  a  bruise.  Suddenly — no  one  knew 
how — they  all  vanished,  and  not  a  bird  was  left  in  the  room 
save  the  one  which  was  tied. 

Hours  had  passed  since  the  shaman  first  came  to  the  house, 
and  it  was  now  morning.  The  canary  never  ceased  making 
a  noise  all  that  time,  and  at  last  the  shaman  said : 

'  She  wants  to  go  to  the  place  where  she  has  put  the  food 
and  the  locks  of  hair  with  which  she  is  bewitching  the  chief  and 
his  daughter.  Untie  her  wings  and  let  her  do  as  she  will,  but 
be  careful  to  follow  her.'  So  they  untied  her  wings,  and  the 
canary  flew  out  of  the  house  followed  by  four  men,  and  she 


THE  STORY  OF  DJUN  145 

hopped  ahead  of  them  the  way  she  had  come  through  the 
woods. 

At  length  she  stopped  and  began  scratching  at  the  roots  of 
some  bushes  till  she  laid  bare  a  skull.  On  the  top  of  the  skull 
some  leaves,  hair,  food,  and  scraps  of  clothes  were  carefully 
arranged  in  a  pattern.  She  picked  up  as  many  of  them  as  she 
could  carry  in  her  beak  and  flew  with  them  down  to  the  sea, 
letting  the  wind  scatter  them  in  different  directions.  This 
she  did  till  all  had  disappeared  and  the  skull  likewise,  and 
then  she  returned  to  the  house  with  the  four  men  following 
her,  and  they  found  the  chief  and  his  daughter  quite  cured, 
for  as  soon  as  the  skull  and  the  other  things  had  touched  the 
sea,  they  recovered  by  magic. 

'  Do  you  hear  the  noise  she  is  making  ?  '  asked  the  shaman, 
when  the  bird  had  begun  to  chatter  as  noisily  as  before.  '  She 
wants  to  go  away  from  here,  but  not  to  her  home,  because  the 
other  birds  will  be  ashamed  of  her.  The  place  she  wishes 
to  go  to  is  a  town  called  Close-along- the-beach.  Therefore, 
let  a  canoe  be  got  ready  at  once  to  take  her  there.'  So  the 
canoe  was  got  ready,  and  the  bird  flew  into  it,  and  they  pushed 
off  from  the  shore,  and  paddled  till  the  bird  suddenly  broke 
out  into  the  strange  speech,  which  no  one  could  understand  but 
the  shaman. 

'  This  must  be  the  place,'  they  said,  and  paddled  in  towards 
the  beach,  and  the  canary  flew  out  of  the  boat  and  went  very 
fast  down  to  the  shore  followed  by  a  man  who  wished  to  see 
where  she  was  going,  and  she  stopped  at  a  tree  whose  roots 
stuck  out  above  the  ground.  For  this  was  the  bird-town  of 
Close-along-the-beach. 

That  is  how  the  ancient  Indians  first  heard  of  witchcraft. 
[Tlingit  Myths  and  Texts.] 


WHAT  BECAME  .OF  OWEN  PAEFITT? 

IN  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  a  family  named 
Parfitt  were  living  in  a  small  town  in  the  West  of  England 
called  Shepton  Mallet.  We  are  not  told  how  many  children 
they  had,  but  some  probably  died  young,  for  the  only  two  we 
hear  about  are  the  eldest  daughter  Mary  and  her  brother  Owen, 
about  fifteen  years  younger. 

Owen  was  apprenticed  by  his  father  to  a  tailor  as  soon  as 
he  had  reached  the  proper  age,  and  learnt  his  trade  thoroughly. 
But  he  hated  sitting  still  sewing  all  day  long,  and  one  morning 
his  stool  waited  for  him  in  vain,  and  some  hours  later  a  message 
was  brought  that  he  had  enlisted  under  the  king's  banner. 
Little  was  known  of  him  for  many  years  :  occasionally  a 
report  was  carried  by  some  pedlar  or  old  soldier  that  Owen  was 
serving  in  this  country  or  in  that,  but  after  a  while  even  these 
rumours  ceased,  and  at  length  people  forgot  that  such  a  person 
as  Owen  Parfitt  had  ever  existed.  His  parents  were  dead ;  only 
his  sister  was  left  to  remember  him. 

Then  suddenly  he  appeared  amongst  them,  bent  and 
crippled  with  wounds  and  rheumatism,  and  unrecognisable  by 
anyone  but  Mary.  Together  they  set  up  house,  and  Owen 
again  got  out  the  board  and  the  big  scissors  and  the  chalk 
and  the  wax  which  his  sister  had  carefully  kept,  and  announced 
to  the  town  of  Shepton  Mallet  that  he  was  going  to  become  a 
tailor  once  more.  However,  the  cottage  which  the  brother' 
and  sister  had  taken  proved  inconvenient  in  many  ways,  and 
after  a  time  they  moved  to  another,  near  the  high  road, 
with  the  main  street  lying  at  the  end  of  the  garden.  Here  he 
used  to  sit  in  the  evening  when  his  work  was  done,  and  talk 
146 


WHAT  BECAME  OF  OWEN  PARFITT?       147 

with  some  of  his  old  friends  who  would  lean  over  the  gate  and 
tell  him  all  the  news. 

As  time  went  on,  Owen's  rheumatism  grew  worse  and 
worse,  till  at  length  he  was  too  crippled  to  move  without  help, 
and  by  and  bye  he  became  unable  to  stir  hand  or  foot.  Mary 
had  grown  very  old  also,  for  her  eightieth  birthday  had  long 
been  past,  and  though  no  cottage  in  Shepton  Mallet  was  cleaner 
than  hers,  she  was  very  feeble,  and  Owen  looked  forward  with 
terror  to  the  day  when  she  would  certainly  break  down.  But 
Mary  was  not  the  woman  to  give  in  while  there  was  any 
strength  left  in  her,  and  when  she  found  that  she  could  not 
get  her  brother  outside  the  door  by  herself,  she  engaged  a  girl 
called  Susannah  Snook,  living  about  fifty  yards  away,  to  come 
and  assist  her.  Between  them  they  carried  him  along  the 
passage  to  a  chair  placed,  if  the  weather  was  fine,  outside  the 
house  door,  and  there  they  left  him,  warmly  wrapped  up, 
while  his  bed  was  made  and  his  room  put  tidy. 

It  was  in  the  afternoon  of  a  June  day  in  1768  that  Owen 
Parfitt,  dressed  in  the  night  things  which  he  always  wore,  with 
an  old  greatcoat  over  his  shoulders,  took  up  his  usual  position 
in  the  little  garden.  No  one  seems  actually  to  have  seen  him 
or  spoken  with  him,  but  then  it  was  haymaking  season,  and 
the  fields  round  the  Parfitts'  cottage  were  filled  with  people, 
while  it  is  only  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  turnpike  road 
opposite  had  many  carts  and  horsemen  passing  up  and  down. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  there  was  the  old  man  taking  his  airing, 
'  plain  for  all  folks  to  see,'  when  Susannah,  having  made  him 
comfortable,  turned  and  went  back  to  Mary.  After  the  bed 
had  been  made  and  the  room  put  to  rights,  the  girl  went  home, 
but  she  must  either  have  quitted  the  cottage  by  a  back  door,  or 
else  the  helpless  old  man  must  still  have  been  sitting  where  she 
left  him.  In  any  case,  in  about  half  an  hour  the  news  reached 
her  that  Owen  had  disappeared,  and  his  sister  was  almost 
distracted. 

Susannah  flew  back  to  the  cottage  as  fast  as  her  feet  would 
take  her,  and  found  Mary  weeping  bitterly.  The  girl  at  once 
tried  to  find  out  what  had  happened,  but  the  old  woman 
was  so  upset  that  this  was  not  very  easy.  Bit  by  bit,  however, 

L2 


148        WHAT  BECAME  OF  OWEN  PAEFITT  ? 

Susannah  discovered  that  after  she  had  returned  home,  Mary 
had  gone  upstairs  for  a  short  time,  and  on  coming  down 
again  was  struck  by  the  silence. 

'  Owen,  are  you  there  ?  '  she  cried,  but  there  was  no 
answer.  '  Owen  ! '  she  repeated  in  a  louder  voice,  but  still 
there  was  nothing.  Then  she  went  to  the  door  and  found  the 
chair  just  as  she  and  Susannah  had  left  it,  but  with  no  trace 
of  her  brother  save  the  greatcoat  which  was  lying  on  the 
back. 

'  Did  you  hear  no  noise  ?  '  asked  the  girl,  after  listening 
to  her  story. 

'  No  ;  nothing  at  all.  I  just  came  down  because  I  had 
finished  what  I  had  to  do  upstairs  ! '  And  Susannah  added, 
on  telling  her  tale,  '  the  chair,  when  I  looked,  was  exactly 
as  we  had  placed  it.' 

The  alarm  once  given,  the  neighbours  lost  no  time  in 
making  a  thorough  search  of  both  town  and  country  for  some 
distance  round,  even  of  the  most  unlikely  spots.  Ponds  and 
wells  were  dragged,  ditches  examined,  outhouses  explored ; 
though  why  anyone  should  wish  to  hide  a  harmless  old  cripple 
in  any  of  these  places,  nobody  stopped  to  ask,  still  less  how  it 
could  have  been  done  in  broad  daylight.  But  in  spite  of  the 
thorough  nature  of  the  hunt,  which  did  not  cease  even  during 
a  sharp  thunderstorm,  and  went  on  all  that  night  and  the 
next  day,  neither  then  nor  later  was  any  trace  ever  found 
of  Owen  Parfitt. 

As  far  as  we  know,  nothing  further  was  done  about  the 
matter  for  nearly  fifty  years,  when  some  gentlemen  happened 
to  hear  the  story  and  were  interested  in  it.  They  sought  out 
all  the  old  people  in  the  town  who  had  known  the  Parfitts  and 
questioned  them  as  to  what  had  happened.  Of  course,  the 
worst  of  this  kind  of  evidence  is  that  no  kind  of  notes  had  been 
taken  down  at  the  time,  and  also  that  the  love  of  astonishing 
their  hearers  by  wonderful  details  which  never  occurred  is  a 
great  temptation  to  many.  On  the  whole,  however,  the 
witnesses  in  the  inquiry  into  Owen  Parfitt's  disappearance 
seem  to  have  been  more  truthful  than  usual.  Susannah 


WHAT  BECAME  OF  OWEN  PARFITT?        149 

Snook,  the  last  person  living  to  see  the  old  man,  told  her  tale 
as  it  has  been  already  set  down,  and  her  account  was  closely 
borne  out  by  that  given  by  another  old  woman  as  far  as  her 
own  knowledge  went.  Then  followed  some  men,  whose  clothes 
had  been  made  by  Parfitt  as  long  as  he  had  been  able  to  work, 
and  who  had  helped  in  the  search  for  him.  One  of  these 
declared  that  Owen  was  '  neither  a  very  good  nor  a  very  bad 
man,  but  was  said  sometimes  to  have  a  very  violent  temper.' 
Yet,  even  if  this  was  correct,  it  does  not  throw  much  light  on 
the  mystery. 

The  general  opinion  of  the  neighbours  at  the  time  of  the 
vanishing  of  Parfitt  was  that  he  was  carried  off  by  demons, 
and  indeed  the  whole  affair  was  so  strange  and  without  reason 
that  their  view  was  hardly  to  be  wondered  at.  The  discovery 
of  part  of  some  human  bones  under  a  wall  near  Parfitt's  cottage 
gave  a  new  turn  to  their  thoughts,  but  this  happened  many 
years  after  the  disappearance  of  Owen,  and  were  held,  when 
examined  in  1814,  to  be  the  bones  of  a  girl  supposed  to  have 
been  murdered.  One  witness  only  contradicted  Susannah's 
evidence,  and  that  was  Jehoshaphat  Stone,  who  swore  Mary 
Parfitt  had  assured  him  that  she  had  come  downstairs 
hastily  after  hearing  a  noise,  to  find  her  brother  gone  and  the 
chair  displaced.  But  this  fact  he  did  not  know  of  his  own 
knowledge,  and  Susannah,  when  asked  about  the  displacing 
of  the  chair,  declared  for  the  second  time  that  the  chair  was 
exactly  as  she  had  left  it,  and  that  Mary  had  expressly  said  she 
had  heard  no  noise. 

One  more  question  remained  to  be  put,  and  that  was  if  the 
old  man  had  any  money  about  him  which  might  have  led  to 
his  kidnapping  or  murder,  though  this  seems  very  unlikely. 
One  witness  said  he  had  a  small  pension  amounting  to  about 
seven  pounds  a  year,  but  an  old  woman  who  was  related  to  the 
Parfitts  '  was  quite  sure  he  had  nothing  of  the  sort,'  and  even 
if  he  had  contrived  to  save  a  little  during  the  years  when 
he  could  still  work  at  his  trade,  it  must  soon  have  gone  in  the 
days  of  his  helplessness.  At  any  rate,  he  would  hardly  have 
had  it  upon  him  when  he  was  dressed  in  his  night  things, 
without  any  sort  of  pocket  to  put  it  in. 


150       WHAT  BECAME  OF  OWEN  PARFITT  ? 

'  But  was  he  a  totally  helpless  cripple?  '  inquired  Dr.  Butler, 
the  future  Bishop  of  Lichfield,  to  whom  the  evidence  was 
sent  by  the  gentlemen  who  had  collected  it.  '  Be  very  careful, 
gentlemen,  to  discover  whether  he  walked  to  his  chair  on  the 
day  of  his  disappearance,  or  whether  he  was  capable  of  walking 
so  much  as  a  few  yards ;  for  there  seems  to  have  been  a 
rumour  that  a  person  of  his  description  was  seen  wandering 
that  evening  near  Frome  ten  or  twelve  miles  distant.' 

In  accordance  with  Dr.  Butler's  wish,  a  close  examination 
was  made  into  this  matter,  but  none  of  the  witnesses  had  ever 
seen  Parfitt  on  his  feet  or  attempting  to  use  them  for  many 
years  before  he  vanished.  But  supposing,  as  has  been  some- 
times known,  that  a  sort  of  miracle  had  been  wrought  and 
his  powers  of  walking  had  come  suddenly  back,  how  could  he 
have  got  from  Shepton  Mallet  to  Frome  in  broad  daylight, 
past  cottages  and  along  roads  where  everyone  knew  him, 
without  being  recognised  by  a  single  person  on  the  way  ? 

4 1  give  it  up,'  as  they  say  about  riddles ;  and  Dr.  Butler 
'  gave  it  up,'  too. 


BLACKSKIN 

IN  an  Indian  town  on  the  North  Pacific  Ocean  there  lived  a 
chief,  whose  ambition  it  was  to  be  stronger  than  other  men  and 
be  able  to  kill  the  sea-lions  down  the  coast.  On  the  coldest 
mornings  in  winter  he  might  be  seen  running  down  very  early 
to  bathe  and  the  village  people  followed  him  into  the  water. 
After  he  had  swum  and  dived  till  he  was  quite  warm,  he  would 
come  out  and  rush  up  a  hill,  and,  catching  hold  of  a  big  branch 
on  a  particular  tree,  would  try  to  pull  it  off  from  the  trunk ! 
Next  he  would  seize  another  tree  and  endeavour  to  twist  it  in 
his  hands  like  a  rope.  This  he  did  to  prove  to  himself  that  he 
was  daily  growing  stronger. 

Now  this  chief  had  a  nephew  named  Blackskin,  who  besides 
appearing  weak  and  delicate,  was  never  seen  to  bathe  and 
seemed  terribly  frightened  when  the  boys  pushed  him  into  the 
water.  Of  course,  they  could  not  know,  when  they  saw  Black- 
skin  sleeping  while  everyone  else  was  enjoying  himself  in  the 
sea,  that  he  was  merely  pretending,  and  that  as  soon  as  they 
were  asleep,  he  rose  and  went  down  to  the  shore  by  himself 
and  stayed  in  the  sea  treading  water  for  so  many  hours,  that 
he  had  to  float  so  as  to  rest  his  feet.  Indeed,  he  would  often 
remain  in  till  he  was  chilled  to  the  bone,  and  then  he  damped 
the  ashes  of  his  fire  in  order  to  make  them  steam,  and  put  his 
sleeping-mat  on  top.  The  villagers,  who  only  beheld  him 
in  bed,  thought  him  a  dirty  fellow ;  but  hi  reality  he  was 
cleaner  than  any  of  them,  and  was  never  known  to  lie  or  to 
steal.  If  they  laughed  at  him  for  his  laziness  or  his  cowardice, 
he  took  no  notice,  though  he  was  strong  enough  to  have  picked 
them  up  with  one  hand,  and  thrown  them  over  the  cliffs ; 
and  when,  as  often  happened,  they  begged  him,  for  a  joke,  to 
bring  them  in  a  large  log  for  their  fire,  he  was  careful  to  make 
151 


152  BLACKSKIN 

a  great  fuss  and  to  raise  it  very  slowly,  as  if  it  was  very  hard 
to  lift. 

'  A  lazy  fellow  like  that  does  not  deserve  any  food,'  said 
they,  and  so  poor  Blackskin  seldom  had  enough  to  eat. 

Things  went  on  like  this  for  some  time,  and  Blackskin 
bathed  constantly  unknown  to  anyone  till  one  night  when  he 
heard  a  whistle. 

'  Someone  has  seen  me,'  he  thought  to  himself  ,  '  well,  if 
so,  I  may  as  well  come  out,'  and  he  walked  up  the  beach  in  the 
direction  of  the  sound  tih1  he  reached  a  short  man  dressed  in 
a  bear-skin.  To  his  surprise,  the  man  caught  hold  of  him, 
picked  him  up,  and  flung  him  down  on  the  sand. 

'  I  am  Strength,'  said  he,  '  and  I  am  going  to  help  you. 
But  tell  no  one  that  you  have  seen  me,  for  as  yet  you  are  not 
strong  enough  to  do  that  which  you  wish  to  do.' 

These  words  made  Blackskin  very  happy,  but  he  was 
quieter  than  ever,  and  the  boys  and  villagers  counted  him  a 
poor-spirited  creature,  and  did  not  mind  what  tricks  they 
played  on  him,  even  though  he  did  belong  to  the  family  of  the 
chief.  They  ordered  him  about  just  as  if  he  had  been  a  captive 
taken  in  war,  and  he  bore  it  quite  meekly,  and  when  the  little 
boys  wrestled  with  him  he  always  let  them  win  the  match. 

'  Fancy  a  great,  big  man  being  thrown  by  a  child  !  '  cried 
those  who  looked. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  all  this,  Blackskin  was  contented,  for  after 
a  few  more  weeks  of  bathing,  he  felt  there  was  nothing  that  he 
could  not  do  quite  easily.  Then  one  night  he  heard  the  whistle 
again,  and  on  the  shore  stood  the  same  man,  who  signed  to 
him  to  come  out  of  the  water. 

'  Wrestle  with  me,'  said  the  man,  and  as  soon  as  they  had 
seized  each  other,  he  added : 

'  Now  you  have  strength  at  last  and  do  not  need  to  go  into 
the  sea.  Do  you  see  that  tree  ?  Try  and  pull  out  that  big 
branch.'  Blackskin  ran  over  to  the  tree,  and  pulled  out 
the  branch  with  ease,  and  even  put  it  back  again,  which  was 
harder. 

'  Very  good,'  said  the  man,     '  Next,  twist  that  other  tree 


BLACKSKIN  155 

right  down  to  its  roots,'  and  Blackskin  did  that  also,  and  after- 
wards untwisted  it  so  that  it  seemed  just  as  before. 

He  had  hardly  got  to  bed,  when  the  people  began  to  run 
down  to  the  sea,  for  it  was  their  bathing  hour.  And  the  boys, 
as  they  passed,  came  in  and  pulled  Blackskin's  hair,  and  cried  : 

'  Come  and  bathe  with  us,'  but  as  usual  he  answered 
nothing.  After  they  all  returned  from  bathing,  the  chief 
went  up  to  the  tree  and  pulled  out  the  branch,  while  the  people 
shouted  for  joy  that  at  last  he  was  strong  enough  to  do  what 
he  had  sought  to  do  for  so  long. 

And  Blackskin  lay  in  bed  and  listened.  Next,  the  chief 
found  he  was  able  to  twist  the  other  tree,  and  they  shouted 
again,  and  the  chief  felt  very  proud  and  thought  himself  a 
great  man.  By  and  bye  they  came  again  to  Blackskin  and  laid 
hold  of  his  feet  to  drag  him  from  his  bed,  laughing  and  saying 
as  they  did  so  : 

'  Your  chief  has  pulled  out  that  branch  and  twisted  that 
tree.  Why  couldn't  you  ?  ' 

'  To-morrow  we  will  hunt  the  sea-lions,'  said  the  young  men 
to  each  other.  And  one  of  them  added  : 

'  I  wonder  which  part  of  the  canoe  that  great  strong 
Blackskin  will  sleep  in.' 

'  Why,  in  the  bow,  of  course,'  answered  a  boy,  '  then  he  can 
land  first  and  tear  the  sea-lions  in  two  before  any  of  us,'  and 
they  all  laughed  again.  But  Blackskin,  though  he  heard, 
took  no  notice,  as  was  his  custom. 

All  that  day  the  people  visited  the  tree  to  look  at  the  branch 
which  the  chief  had  pulled  out,  and  in  choosing  the  strongest 
men  among  them  who  had  bathed  with  him  in  the  sea,  to  hunt 
the  sea-lions.  The  store  of  meat  they  had  in  the  town  was 
nearly  exhausted,  and  it  was  time  they  collected  more  ;  but 
the  island  on  which  the  animals  lived  was  very  slippery,  and  it 
was  not  easy  for  the  men  to  climb  over  the  rocks. 

That  night  Blackskin  took  one  more  bath  and  then  he  went 
to  his  uncle's  wife,  who  never  made  fun  of  him  like  the  rest, 
and  said  : 


156  BLACKSKIN 

'  Will  you  give  me  a  clean  shirt  and  something  for  my  hair  ? ' 

'  Have  you  been  bidden  to  the  hunt  ?  '  asked  the  wife,  and 
Blackskin  made  reply : 

'  No  ;  I  have  not  been  bidden,  but  I  am  going.'  So  she  got 
ready  some  food  and  tied  it  up  in  a  small  package  for  him,  and 
gave  him  the  clean  shirt  and  what  he  wanted  for  his  hair. 

He  was  the  last  to  reach  the  canoe,  and  the  men  who  were 
seated  in  it  cried  when  they  beheld  him  : 

'  Don't  let  him  come  !  Don't  let  him  come ! '  But  Black- 
skin  was  determined  to  get  in,  and  seized  the  canoe  as  they 
were  pushing  it  off.  In  vain  they  struck  his  fingers  to  force 
him  to  let  go ;  and  to  their  amazement  he  easily  dragged  back 
the  canoe,  till  it  was  near  enough  for  him  to  jump  in.  Finding 
they  could  not  keep  him  out,  the  men  began  to  speak  rudely 
to  him,  till  the  chief  stopped  them. 

'  Let  him  alone,'  he  said  ;  '  he  can  bale  out  the  water  if  it 
should  come  in  ; '  so  Blackskin  sat  in  the  seat  of  the  man  that 
bales,  wondering  within  himself  if  his  uncle  had  suspected 
anything  when  he  had  pulled  back  the  canoe  with  the  men  in 
it.  But  as  the  chief  said  nothing,  Blackskin  supposed  he  had 
been  thinking  of  something  else  at  the  time. 

When  they  were  close  to  the  island,  the  chief  waited  till  the 
canoe  was  lifted  by  a  wave,  and  then  he  leaped  on  shore.  He 
seized  one  sea-lion  and  killed  it,  and  managed  to  seat  himself 
on  the  back  of  another ;  but  the  sea-lion  gave  a  sudden  spring 
and  threw  the  chief  high  into  the  air,  and  he  fell  down  heavily 
striking  his  head  against  a  rock,  so  that  he  died  at  once. 

Blackskin  had  seen  it  all,  and  was  sorry.  He  opened  his 
bundle  of  clothes  and  put  on  his  shirt  and  his  hair  ornament, 
while  the  rest  stood  round  watching. 

'  I  am  the  man  who  pulled  out  that  branch  and  twisted  that 
tree,'  he  said,  '  and  now,  bring  the  canoe  closer  in  ! '  As  he 
spoke  he  walked  the  length  of  it  upon  the  seats,  which  broke 
under  him,  so  that  those  who  were  sitting  on  them  were  thrown 
to  the  bottom.  Very  frightened  they  all  were  when  they  heard 
the  crash,  lest  he  should  revenge  himself  on  them  for  the  way 
they  had  treated  him.  But  he  did  not  even  look  at  them, 
only  jumped  ashore  as  his  uncle  had  done,  and  climbed  straight 


BLACKSKIN  159 

up  the  tall  cliff,  hitting  some  sea-lions  on  the  head  as  he  passed. 
When  he  reached  the  big  one  which  had  killed  his  uncle,  he 
slew  that  also,  and  carried  them  all  to  the  shore,  piling  them 
up  in  the  canoe. 

There  was  enough  meat  to  last  them  many  months,  and 
Blackskin  was  still  piling,  when  suddenly  the  men  in  the  canoe 
pushed  off,  and  paddled  home  again,  and  this  was  because  of 
their  dread  of  Blackskin.  They  made  the  canoe  fast  and  told 
the  people  of  the  town  that  it  was  Blackskin  who  pulled  out 
the  branch  and  twisted  the  tree,  and  that  for  very  fear  they 
had  left  him  on  the  island  of  the  sea-lions. 

'  Why  did  you  do  that  ?  '  asked  the  people.  '  Trouble 
may  come  of  it.' 

So  Blackskin  found  himself  alone  on  the  island,  and  as 
there  was  nothing  to  make  a  fire  with,  he  rolled  himself,  head 
and  all  in  his  blanket,  and  went  to  sleep.  After  a  time  he  was 
wakened  by  a  noise  which  sounded  like  the  beating  of  sticks, 
and  someone  called  out : 

'  I  have  come  after  you.'  He  sat  up  and  looked  round, 
but  only  saw  a  black  duck  swimming  towards  him. 

'  I  have  seen  you  already,'  said  he,  and  the  black  duck 
answered : 

'  I  was  bidden  to  fetch  you.  Get  on  my  back  and  be  sure 
to  keep  your  eyes  tight  shut  till  I  tell  you  to  open  them. 
And  Blackskin  kept  his  eyes  tight  shut  till  the  duck 
called  out : 

'  Now  you  may  open  them,'  and  he  opened  them  and 
found  that  he  was  in  a  fine  house,  though  he  did  not  guess  it 
was  the  house  of  the  sea-lions. 

Of  course,  the  people  of  the  town  knew  nothing  of  the  black 
duck,  and  they  mourned  for  the  chief  and  for  Blackskin,  who 
had  been  left  to  perish  on  the  island,  and  the  chief's  wife 
mourned  most  of  all. 

'  Why  did  you  do  it  ?  '  she  asked  many  times,  and  the 
townspeople  repeated, '  Why  did  you  do  it  ?  A  strong  man  like 
that  is  scarce.' 

Then  the  chief's  wife  begged  some  of    the   young  men 


160  BLACKSKIN 

to  cross  to  the  island  and  bring  back  her  husband's  body ;  and 
this  they  did  at  last,  but  they  could  not  find  Blackskin's. 

'  Where  can  he  be  ?  '  they  said.  '  Can  the  tide  have  taken 
him,  or  a  wild  beast  have  eaten  him  ?  We  must  consult  the 
wise  man.' 

And  the  wise  man  told  them  that  Blackskin  was  not  dead, 
but  would  come  back  again  some  day  ;  and  this  troubled  them 
more  than  ever. 

All  this  time  Blackskin  was  quite  happy  in  the  house  of  the 
sea-lions.  He  had  grown  so  used  to  them  that  they  seemed  to 
him  quite  like  human  beings,  though  when  he  thought  about 
it,  he  knew  of  course  they  were  not.  One  day  he  heard  a 
young  sea-lion  crying  with  pain,  and  his  people  could  not  tell 
what  was  the  matter.  Then  Blackskin  came  and  examined 
him,  and  declared  that  he  had  a  barbed  spear-point  sticking 
in  his  side. 

'  This  wise  medicine  man  has  found  out  why  he  cries,'  said 
one ;  and  Blackskin  answered  : 

'  I  am  not  a  medicine  man,  but  all  the  same  I  can  take  out 
that  spear-head  ! '  And  after  it  was  out,  he  washed  the  place 
with  warm  water. 

The  young  sea-lion  was  very  grateful,  and  as  he  belonged 
to  a  powerful  tribe  they  wished  to  reward  Blackskin  for  his 
kindness,  and  said  to  him  : 

'  Anything  that  belongs  to  us,  you  may  have  if  you  will.' 

'  Give  me,  then,'  answered  Blackskin, '  that  box  that  hangs 
overhead.'  Now  the  box  was  a  magic  box  which  could  bring 
the  wind  out  of  whichever  quarter  you  wanted  it,  and  this 
was  what  happened.  The  sea-lions  pushed  the  box  up  and 
down  the  surface  of  the  sea,  and  whistled,  and  called  to  the 
wind  as  you  would  call  to  a  dog,  saying : 

'  Come  to  this  box  !     Come  to  this  box  !  ' 

They  were  sad  at  parting  with  it,  and  would  have  wished 
him  to  ask  for  anything  else,  but  they  would  not  break  their 
word  and  showed  Blackskin  how  to  get  into  it,  and  bade  him  on 
no  account  to  take  it  near  whatever  was  unclean. 

Then  they  said  farewell  to  each  other,  and  Blackskin 


BLACKS  KIN  161 

packed  himself  carefully  into  the  box  (which  was  rather  small 
for  a  tall  man),  and  in  a  minute  he  was  blown  far  out  to  sea. 

'  West  wind  !  West  wind  !  Come  to  this  box,'  he  cried,  and 
the  west  wind  came,  and  blew  and  blew,  till  it  blew  him  to  the 
shore,  not  far  from  his  own  town.  And  when  he  saw  where  he 
was,  he  got  out  and  shook  himself  and  stretched  his  arms  and 
legs,  and  hid  the  box  away  in  the  branches  of  a  tree.  After 
that  he  walked  home. 

The  first  person  he  saw  was  his  uncle's  wife,  who  welcomed 
him  gladly,  for  next  to  the  chief  she  loved  Blackskin  better 
than  anybody.  He  then  sent  a  messenger  to  beg  all  the  towns- 
people to  assemble  together,  and  they  obeyed ;  but  those  who 
had  been  cruel  to  him  came  unwillingly,  for  they  feared  his 
wrath  always,  and  hoped  he  had  disappeared  for  ever.  And 
when  they  lifted  their  glance  and  beheld  him  strong  and  tall 
and  able  to  force  men  to  do  his  will,  even  though  they  liked  it 
little,  they  trembled  more  than  before  for  the  doom  he  might 
pronounce  on  them.  As  for  Blackskin,  his  eyes  shone  with 
an  angry  light ;  but  he  said  to  himself  : 

'  It  is  my  own  fault.  If  I  had  not  let  them  do  as  they  like, 
they  would  never  have  dared  to  treat  me  in  that  way.  It  is 
not  just  to  punish  them :  I  will  forgive  them.'  But  before  he 
had  time  to  teU  them  so,  the  men  who  had  left  him  on  the 
island  had  run  away  in  terror,  and  hid  themselves  in  the 
woods ;  thus  they  were  not  present  at  the  assembling  of  the 
people,  nor  heard  of  the  welcome  given  him  by  many.  Then 
Blackskin  looked  round  him,  and  spoke  these  words,  and 
some  who  listened  to  him  hung  their  heads  with  shame : 

'  You  know  of  yourselves  what  cruelty  you  showed  me, 
and  you  do  well  to  be  ashamed  of  it ;  and  those  who  are  cruel 
to  people  because  they  think  they  are  weaker  than  themselves 
will  always  have  reason  to  feel  shame.  Remember  this,  and 
do  not  make  fun  of  poor  people  any  more,  as  you  did  in  the 
days  when  my  uncle  was  chief.' 

This  is  what  Blackskin  said. 

[Tlingit  Myths  and  Texts,  recorded  by  John  R.  Swanton.] 


THE  PETS  OF  AURORE  DUPIN 

DURING  the  years  in  which  Napoleon  and  his  armies  were 
fighting  in  Spain,  in  Germany,  and  in  Russia,  a  little  girl  might 
be  seen  running  wild  in  the  province  of  Berry,  which  is  almost 
in  the  very  centre  of  France.  In  those  days  if  you  had 
asked  her  name  she  would  have  answered  that  it  was  '  Aurore 
Dupin ' ;  but  by  and  bye  she  took  another,  which  by  her  books 
she  made  famous — nearly  as  famous,  indeed,  in  its  own  way  as 
that  of  her  great  ancestor,  the  general  Count  Maurice  de  Saxe. 

But  it  is  not  the  celebrated  writer  who  called  herself  '  George 
Sand '  with  whom  we  have  to  do  now,  but  the  child  Aurore 
Dupin,  and  her  friends  the  birds  and  beasts,  dwellers  like 
herself  in  the  bare  and  desolate  plains  that  surrounded  her 
grandmother's  chateau  of  Nohant.  Maurice  Dupin,  father 
of  Aurore,  was  a  soldier  like  his  grandfather,  Maurice  de  Saxe  ; 
but  her  mother  was  the  daughter  of  a  bird-seller,  who,  curiously 
enough,  lived  in  the  '  Street  of  the  Birds  '  (Quai  des  Oiseaux) 
in  Paris.  To  this  fact  Aurore  always  declared  that  she  owed 
her  powers  of  fascination  over  the  chaffinches,  robins,  or 
starlings  that  would  sit  on  her  shoulders  or  perch  on  her  hands 
as  she  walked  with  her  mother  in  the  garden.  And  far  from 
being  frightened  at  the  presence  of  a  grown-up  person,  the  birds 
often  seemed  to  prefer  Madame  Maurice  Dupin  to  Aurore  herself. 

Aurore  became  very  learned  about  birds  and  their  ways, 
considering  them  far  cleverer  than  men  or  animals,  and 
endowed  with  finer  qualities  than  either.  Warblers  she  held 
superior  to  any  other  small  bird,  and  says  that  at  fifteen 
days  a  warbler  is  as  old  in  the  feathered  world  as  a  child  of 
ten  is  in  that  which  speaks  instead  of  chirping.  When  she 
was  a  little  girl  at  Nohant,  she  brought  up  by  hand  two 
baby  warblers  of  different  sorts  and  different  nests. 
162 


THE  PETS  OF  AURORE  DUPIN  163 

The  one  with  a  yellow  breast  she  named  Jonquil ;  while  the 
other,  who  had  a  grey  waistcoat,  was  called  Agatha.  Jonquil 
was  as  much  as  a  fortnight  older  than  Agatha,  and  when 
under  the  care  of  Aurore  she  was  a  slim,  gentle  young  creature, 
inclined  to  be  thin,  and  with  scarcely  enough  feathers  to  cover 
her  skin,  and  not  yet  able  to  fly  with  certainty  from  one  branch 
to  another,  or  even  to  feed  herself.  This  Aurore  knew  was  her 
own  fault,  because  if  Jonquil  had  remained  at  home  slie  would 
have  learned  these  things  far  earlier,  for  bird-mothers  are 
much  better  teachers  than  our  mothers,  and  insist  that  their 
children  shall  find  out  how  to  get  on  by  themselves. 

Agatha  was  a  most  tiresome  child.  She  would  never  be 
quiet  for  a  moment,  but  was  always  hopping  about,  crying 
out  and  tormenting  Jonquil,  who  was  beginning  to  wonder 
at  all  she  saw  around  her,  and  would  sit  thinking  with 
one  claw  drawn  up  under  her  wing,  her  eyes  half  shut,  and  her 
head  sunk  between  her  shoulders.  But  Agatha,  who  never 
thought  at  all,  did  not  see  why  anybody  else  should  do  so 
either,  and  would  peck  at  Jonquil's  legs  and  wings  in  order 
to  attract  attention,  unless  Aurore  happened  to  be  in  the 
room  and  glance  at  her.  Then  Agatha  would  dance  up  and 
down  the  branch  uttering  plaintive  cries,  till  some  bread  or 
biscuit  was  given  to  her.  For  Agatha  was  always  hungry,  or 
always  greedy  ;  you  did  not  quite  know  which. 

One  morning  Aurore  wras  absorbed  in  writing  a  story,  and 
her  two  little  friends  were  seated  on  a  green  branch  some 
distance  away.  It  was  rather  cold,  and  Agatha,  whose  feathers 
still  only  half  covered  her,  was  cuddling  for  warmth  against 
Jonquil.  They  had  actually  been  quiet  for  half  an  hour — 
a  very  rare  occurrence — but  at  length  they  made  up  their 
minds  it  must  be  time  for  dinner,  and  if  Aurore  did  not  know 
it,  she  must  be  told. 

So  Jonquil  hopped  on  to  the  back  of  a  chair  and  from 
that  to  the  table,  and  finally  planted  her  claws  upon  the 
writing  paper,  making  a  great  mess  of  the  words  ;  while 
Agatha,  who  was  afraid  to  leave  the  branch  by  herself, 
flapped  her  wings  and  opened  her  beak,  screaming  with  hunger. 

Aurore  was  just  in  the  middle  of  the  great  scene  in  her 

M2 


164  THE  PETS  OF  AURORE  DUPIN 

story,  where  the  hero  and  heroine  had  found  out  the  wicked 
uncle,  and  fond  though  she  was  of  Jonquil,  she  felt  for  the  first 
time  very  much  provoked  by  her  behaviour.  She  pointed  out 
to  her  that  by  now  she  really  was  old  enough  to  feed  herself,  and 
that  close  by  was  an  excellent  pasty  in  a  pretty  saucer,  only 
she  was  too  lazy  to  eat  it,  and  expected  her  mistress  to  put  it 
in  her  mouth.  Jonquil  was  not  accustomed  to  be  scolded,  and 
did  not  like  it,  and  to  show  her  displeasure  hopped  sulkily 
back  to  her  branch.  Agatha,  however,  had  no  mind  to  go 
without  her  dinner,  and,  turning  to  Jonquil,  insisted  that  she 
should  return  at  once  and  help  her  to  that  delicious  dish.  And 
she  was  so  eloquent  in  her  pleading  that  Jonquil  seemed  really 
moved,  though  she  hesitated  as  to  whether  she  should  do  as 
Agatha  desired,  or  if  she  should  keep  her  dignity  and  remain 
on  her  branch. 

Of  course,  Aurore  pretended  to  see  nothing  of  all  this, 
although  in  reality  she  was  watching  eagerly  under  her  eyelids 
how  it  would  end. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  nutter  in  the  air,  and  Jonquil  stood 
on  the  edge  of  the  saucer.  She  opened  her  mouth  and  chirped, 
expecting  the  food  to  fly  into  her  beak ;  but  as  it  did  nothing 
of  the  sort,  she  stooped  down  and  pecked  it.  To  the  surprise 
of  her  mistress,  instead  of  swallowing  the  morsel  herself,  she 
flew  back  to  the  branch  and  gave  it  to  Agatha. 

From  that  day  Jonquil  took  as  much  care  of  Agatha  as  if  she 
had  been  her  own  child.  She  saw  that  her  feathers  were  kept 
in  order,  taught  her  very  soon  to  feed  herself,  and  steadied  her 
in  her  first  nights  from  the  branch.  Agatha  proved  quicker  and 
cleverer  than  her  mistress  expected,  and  in  a  month's  time  she 
and  Jonquil  had  made  a  home  for  themselves  amongst  the  big 
trees  in  the  garden,  from  which  they  would  often  fly  down  to  see 
their  old  friends  at  dinner  in  the  garden,  and  to  share  their 
dessert. 

All  through  her  life  Aurore  and  the  birds  around  were  close 
friends  ;  others  besides  Jonquil  and  Agatha  would  come  when 
she  called  them,  not  because  they  knew  their  names,  but 
because  they  recognised  the  sound  of  her  voice.  In  later  years 


THE  PETS  OF  AVRORE  DUPIN  165 

she  had  a  splendid  hawk  whom  everyone  else  was  afraid  of, 
but  his  mistress  would  trust  him  to  perch  on  her  baby's  cot, 
and  snap  gently  at  any  flies  which  settled  on  the  child's  face 
without  waking  him.  Unluckily  this  charming  gentleman 
was  not  always  nice  to  people  whom  he  did  not  like,  and  at 
last  he  was  obliged  to  be  placed  in  a  strong  cage,  from  which 
he  easily  escaped  the  next  day  after  breaking  the  bars. 

Maurice  Dupin,  the  father  of  Aurore,  was  aide-de-camp  to 
General  Murat,  afterwards  King  of  Naples  and  Napoleon's 
brother-in-law.  In  April  1808,  long  before  the  time  of  Jonquil 
and  Agatha,  when  the  general  was  ordered  to  Madrid,  the 
Dupins  followed  him,  and  they  all  lived  for  a  time  in  a  splendid 
palace  belonging  to  the  hated  Spanish  minister,  known  as 
the  '  Prince  of  Peace,'  who  like  his  master  the  king,  was  now 
a  captive  in  France.  Here  Aurore  was  very  happy.  The 
rooms  were  large,  the  passages  long,  and  you  never  knew 
what  kind  of  delightful  beast  you  might  not  meet  with  in  one 
or  the  other.  Perhaps,  on  the  whole,  it  was  most  likely  that 
you  would  come  across  a  rabbit,  as  there  were  so  many  of 
them  that  they  came  and  went  without  the  slightest  attention 
from  anyone.  A  beautiful  white  bunny,  with  eyes  as  red  as 
rubies,  at  once  bade  Aurore  welcome.  He  had  established 
himself  in  the  corner  of  her  bedroom  behind  the  looking-glass, 
and  would  come  out  from  there  to  play  games  on  the  polished 
floor.  When  they  were  both  tired,  the  little  girl — Aurore  was 
then  about  four — would  throw  herself  into  a  chair,  and  the 
white  rabbit  would  jump  into  her  lap,  and  lie  quietly  there  for 
hours,  while  Aurore  made  up  all  kinds  of  interesting  stories 
to  amuse  him. 

Besides  the  white  rabbit,  Aurore  greatly  admired  General 
Murat  (especially  when  he  wore  his  uniform)  and  was  quite  con- 
vinced he  was  a  fairy  prince.  Her  mother  made  her  a  uniform 
too,  not  like  the  general's,  of  course,  but  an  exact  copy  of  her 
father's.  It  consisted  of  a  white  cashmere  vest  with  sleeves 
fastened  by  gold  buttons,  over  which  was  a  loose  pelisse, 
trimmed  with  black  fur,  while  the  breeches  were  of  yellow 
cashmere  embroidered  with  gold.  The  boots  of  red  morocco 


166  THE  PETS  OF  AURORE  DUPIN 

had  spurs  attached ;  at  her  side  hung  a  sabre  and  round  her 
waist  was  a  sash  of  crimson  silk  cords.  In  this  guise  Aurore 
was  presented  by  Murat  to  his  friends,  but  though  she  was 
intensely  proud  of  her  uniform,  the  little  aide-de-camp  found 
the  fur  and  the  gold  very  hot  and  heavy,  and  was  always 
thankful  to  change  it  for  the  black  silk  dress  and  black 
mantilla  worn  by  Spanish  children.  One  does  not  know 
in  which  costume  she  must  have  looked  most  strange. 

Murat,  who  was  a  good-natured  man,  grew  very  fond  of 
the  child,  and  one  evening  when  he  returned  from  hunting  he 
went  up  to  the  rooms  in  the  palace  occupied  by  the  Dupins 
bearing  in  his  arms  a  tiny  fawn.  Aurore  was  sound  asleep,  for 
it  was  nearly  midnight,  but,  followed  by  her  father  and  mother, 
the  general  entered  the  room  and  laid  the  fawn  beside  her  on 
the  pillow.  The  child  half-opene'd  her  eyes,  and  seeing  the 
little  head  close  to  her  face,  put  her  arm  round  its  neck  and 
dozed  off  again.  The  next  morning  when  she  woke  up,  she 
found  Murat  standing  by  her  bed,  for  M.  Dupin  had  told  him 
what  a  pretty  picture  the  two  made,  and  he  wished  to  see  it. 
The  poor  little  creature — probably  not  more  than  a  few  days 
old — had  been  chased  by  dogs  the  previous  evening,  and  though 
it  had  escaped  unhurt,  which  was  a  marvel,  was  absolutely  worn 
out,  and  had  settled  itself  comfortably  to  sleep  like  a  kitten. 
It  lay  curled  up  on  Aurore's  chest,  with  its  head  on  the  pillow 
and  her  arms  still  remained  round  its  neck.  At  the  sound  of 
voices  she  awoke,  and  rubbed  her  cheek  against  the  nose  of  her 
bedfellow,  who,  feeling  warm  and  comfortable  and  sure  of  a 
friend,  licked  her  hands  gratefully.  But  the  little  thing 
pined  for  its  mother,  and -though  Aurore  did  her  very  best  to 
replace  her,  it  was  too  late,  and  early  one  morning  Madame 
Dupin  found  the  fawn  quite  dead  under  the  pile  of  coverings 
Aurore  had  spread  over  it.  She  dared  not  teh1  the  child  what 
had  happened,  so  she  said  it  had  run  away  in  the  night,  and 
was  now  quite  happy  with  its  family  in  the  woods.  All  of 
which  Aurore  believed. 

After  a  few  months  spent  in  Spain,  the  Bupins  returned  to 
Nohant  at  the  end  of  August,  exhausted  by  the  hardships 
they  had  undergone  and  their  terrible  journey.  For  a  few 


BESIDES  THE  WHITE  RABBIT  ATRORE  GREATLY  ADMIKKU 
GENERAL  MURAT. 


THE  PETS  OF  AURORE  DUPIN  167 

days  they  had  peace  and  rest ;  then  the  little  blind  baby 
died,  and,  at  his  mother's  express  wish,  was  buried  by  his 
father  secretly  under  a  pear-tree  in  the  garden  of  Nohant. 
Nine  days  later  Maurice  Dupin  mounted  a  hard-mouthed 
horse  named  Leopardo,  and  rode  off  to  dine  with  some  friends 
in  the  country.  On  his  return  Leopardo  stumbled  in  the 
darkness  over  a  heap  of  stones  on  one  side  of  the  road,  and 
threw  his  master. 

'  Weber  !  Come  quickly  !  I  am  dying,'  Maurice  called  to 
his  groom,  and  it  was  true.  His  back  was  broken  ;  and 
though  help  was  speedily  got  and  he  was  taken  to  an  inn  near 
by,  there  was  no  hope  from  the  first,  and  he  spoke  no  more. 
For  the  second  time  in  her  life,  his  mother  put  her  feet  on  the 
ground,  and  walked  to  meet  him  as  they  carried  him  back  to 
Nohant.  The  other  occasion  was  when  she  awaited  him  on 
the  road  at  Passy,  after  his  release  from  prison. 

The  blow  was  a  dreadful  one,  but  the  elder  Madame 
Dupin  was  a  woman  of  strong  and  silent  courage,  and  tried  to 
take  up  her  life  as  usual.  She  wished  to  adopt  Aurore  entirely, 
and  leave  Madame  Maurice  to  take  care  of  another  daughter 
named  Caroline,  whom  she  had  had  by  a  former  husband. 
But  Madame  Maurice  could  not  bear  to  part  from  her  younger 
child,  and  as  Caroline  was  at  this  time  in  a  convent  there  was 
no  need  to  decide  the  matter  at  present.  In  this  manner  two 
or  three  years  slipped  past,  and  Aurore  grew  strong  and  healthy 
in  the  open  air,  playing  with  any  children  who  came  in  her 
way,  or,  better  still,  with  any  animals  she  could  get  hold  of. 

Among  her  particiilar  friends  at  Nohant  was  a  donkey — 
the  best  donkey  in  the  world.  Of  course,  he  might  have  been 
obstinate  and  fond  of  kicking  in  his  youth,  like  some  other 
donkeys ;  but  now  he  was  old,  very  old  indeed,  and  was  a 
model  of  good  behaviour. 

His  walk  was  slow  and  stately,  and,  owing  to  the  respect 
due  to  his  age  and  his  long  service  in  the  house  of  Madame 
Dupin,  no  one  either  scolded  or  corrected  him.  Every  day 
Aurore  and  Ursule,  the  little  girl  who  was  her  companion,  were 
placed  in  panniers  on  his  back,  and  made  what  seemed  to  them 
long  journeys  through  the  world.  On  their  return  home  he 


168  THE  PETS  OF  AURORE  DUPIN 

was  unharnessed,  and  left  to  wander  where  he  wished,  for 
nobody  ever  dreamed  of  interfering  with  him.  He  might 
have  been  met  in  the  village,  in  the  fields,  or  in  the  garden,  but 
always  conducting  himself  as  an  elderly  gentleman  should. 
Now  and  then  the  fancy  took  him  to  walk  in  at  Madame 
Dupin's  front  door,  from  which  he  would  enter  the  dining-room 
or  even  the  lady's  private  apartments.  One  day  she  found  him 
installed  in  her  dressing-room,  sniffing  curiously  at  a  box  of  oris 
powder.  As  the  doors  were  only  fastened  by  a  latch  after  the 
old  custom,  he  could  easily  open  them,  and  could  find  his  way 
all  over  the  ground  floor,  which  he  generally  explored  in  search 
of  Madame  Dupin,  for  he  knew  quite  well  she  would  be  sure 
to  have  something  nice  for  him  in  her  pocket.  As  to  being 
laughed  at  for  his  odd  habits,  he  was  quite  indifferent  to  that, 
and  listened  to  the  jokes  made  about  him  with  the  air  of  a 
philosopher. 

One  hot  night  in  summer  he  could  not  sleep,  and  a  wander- 
ing fit  seized  him.  He  passed  through  a  door  which  had  been 
left  open,  mounted  six  or  eight  steps,  crossed  the  hall  and  the 
kitchen  and  arrived  at  Madame  Dupin's  bedroom.  He  tried 
as  usual  to  lift  the  latch,  but  as  a  bolt  had  been  put  on  the 
inside,  he  could  not  get  in.  He  then  began  to  scratch  with  his 
hoofs,  but  Madame  Dupin  only  thought  that  it  was  a  thief, 
cutting  through  the  door,  and  rang  for  her  maid  violently.  The 
maid,  fearing  that  her  mistress  had  been  taken  ill,  did  not  wait 
even  to  obtain  a  light,  but  ran  along  the  passage  as  fast  as  she 
could,  falling  right  over  the  donkey.  The  maid  set  up  piercing 
cries ;  the  donkey  uttered  loud  hee-haws,  and  Madame 
Dupin  jumped  hastily  out  of  bed  to  see  what  in  the  world 
could  be  happening.  It  took  a  good  deal  to  move  her  stately 
composure,  but  on  that  occasion  she  really  did  allow  herself 
to  smile,  if  only  the  maid  and  the  donkey  had  not  been  too 
frightened  to  notice  it.  But  when  Aurore  heard  the  story  next 
morning,  she  laughed  more  than  she  had  ever  done  in  her  life. 

So  good-bye  to  her  for  the  present.  When  we  next  hear 
of  her,  she  will  be  busy  with  lessons. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  M.  DESCHARTRE8 

FOR  many  years  Aurore  Dupin  spent  her  life  between  Berry 
and  Paris,  travelling  in  a  coach  drawn  by  six  strong  horses, 
till  lack  of  money  obliged  them  to  sell  the  big  and  heavy  'Berlin,' 
and  go  in  a  sort  of  gig  which  could  only  hold  two  people,  with 
a  child  between  them.  Of  course,  the  journey  took  some  days, 
and  Aurore,  sitting  between  her  mother  and  her  nurse,  was 
thinking  all  the  way  of  the  forests  they  would  have  to  pass 
through,  and  how,  on  their  way  to  Paris,  she  had  overheard  her 
grandmother  telling  her  maid  that  she  remembered  well  when 
the  Forest  of  Orleans  was  the  haunt  of  robbers,  who  stopped 
the  passers-by  and  stripped  them  of  everything  that  was 
valuable.  If  the  thieves  were  caught,  they  were  hung  on  the 
trees  along  the  road,  to  prevent  others  from  following  in  their 
footsteps,  though,  to  judge  from  the  numbers  of  the  bodies 
seen  by  Madame  Dupin,  the  warning  had  no  effect  whatever. 

Aurore  was  thought  to  be  asleep  when  Madame  Dupin  told 
this  gloomy  tale,  but  it  made  a  deep  impression  on  her  mind, 
and  she  never  quite  forgot  it,  even  amongst  the  wonders  of 
Paris.  So  when  they  started  for  Nohant  she  trembled  at  the 
sight  of  every  wood,  and  only  breathed  freely  when  they  came 
out  safely  on  the  other  side.  What  a  comfort  it  was  to  arrive 
safely  at  the  town  of  Chateauroux,  and  know  that  you  were 
only  nine  miles  from  home  ! 

They  had  dinner  with  an  old  friend,  who  insisted  on  showing 
them  every  fruit  and  flower  in  his  garden,  so  that  it  was 
getting  dusk  when  they  climbed  into  the  only  sort  of  carriage 
to  be  hired  in  the  place,  a  kind  of  springless  cart  drawn  by  a 
horse  whose  bones  could  be  counted.  The  coachman  was  a 
boy  of  twelve  or  thirteen,  new  to  that  part  of  the  world  and 
169 


170          THE  TRIALS  OF  M.  DESCHARTRES 

with  no  idea  at  all  how  to  make  his  wray  in  the  dark,  through 
a  lonely  trackless  waste,  scattered  over  with  pools  of  water 
and  long  heather.  For  miles  round  there  was  only  one 
cottage  and  that  belonged  to  a  gardener. 

For  five  hours  the  cart  rocked  and  floundered  as  the  horse 
found  itself  knee-deep  in  gorse  or  picking  its  way  through  a 
marsh,  and  every  instant  Aurore — -and  her  mother  also — 
expected  a  robber  to  spring  up  out  of  the  darkness  and  seize 
them.  They  need  not  have  been  afraid  ;  it  was  not  worth 
any  robber's  while  to  waste  his  time  in  that  barren  district ; 
but  there  was  a  great  risk  of  their  being  upset.  This  did  at 
length  happen,  and  about  midnight  they  suddenly  found  them- 
selves in  a  deep  sandy  hole  out  of  which  their  horse  was  unable 
to  drag  them.  The  boy  soon  understood  this,  and,  unharnessing 
the  beast,  jumped  on  his  back  and,  wishing  them  gaily  good- 
night, disappeared  in  the  darkness,  quite  unmoved  by  the 
prayers  of  Madame  Maurice  Dupin,  the  threats  of  Rose,  or 
the  sobs  of  Aurore. 

For  a  new  terror  had  taken  hold  of  the  child.  A  strange 
hoarse  noise  had  burst  out  all  round  them,  unlike  anything  she 
had  ever  heard. 

'  It  is  all  right ;  it  is  only  the  frogs  croaking,'  said  Rose ; 
but  Aurore  knew  much  better.  How  absurd  to  talk  of  frogs 
when  everyone  could  guess  the  voices  were  those  of  gnomes 
or  ill-natured  water-sprites,  irritated  at  having  their  solitude 
disturbed,  and  Aurore  sobbed  on,  and  clung  to  her 
mother. 

It  was  only  when  Rose  flung  stones  into  the  water  that 
the  croaking  stopped,  and  Aurore  was  persuaded  to  go  to 
sleep  in  the  cart.  Her  mother  had  decided  that  she  must  make 
the  best  of  it,  as  they  could  not  get  on  till  morning,  and  was 
talking  cheerfully  to  Rose,  when  about  two  o'clock  they 
suddenly  beheld  a  light  moving  jerkily  about,  some  distance 
off.  Rose  declared  it  was  the  moon  rising,  Mme.  Maurice 
that  it  was  a  meteor,  but  it  soon  became  plain  that  it  was 
coming  in  their  direction.  The  boy  was  not  so  faithless  as  he 
seemed.  He  had  ridden  in  search  of  the  gardener's  cottage  of 
which  he  had  heard,  and  the  good  man,  who  was  used  to  these 


THE  TRIALS  OF  M.  DESC  HART  RES  171 

accidents,  had  brought  his  sons,  his  horses,  and  a  long  torch 
dipped  in  oil  to  the  help  of  the  travellers.  By  their  aid,  the  cart 
was  soon  out  of  the  hole  and  two  stout  farm-horses  harnessed 
to  it,  and  as  it  was  too  late  to  proceed  to  Nohant,  the  hungry 
and  tired  travellers  were  taken  back  to  the  cottage,  and 
given  a  good  supper  and  warm  beds,  in  which  they  slept  till 
morning,  in  spite  of  the  noise  made  by  cocks  and  children. 
The  next  day  at  twelve  they  reached  Nohant. 

It  is  never  possible  to  forget  that  Aurore's  childhood  was 
streaked  through  and  through  with  Napoleon,  though  she 
does  not  write  down  her  recollections  till  three  kings  had 
succeeded  him  on  the  throne  of  France.  Still,  he  more  or 
less  pervades  her  book  just  as  he  pervaded  the  hearts  of  the 
people,  and  when  she  was  fifteen  one  of  his  generals  wanted 
to  marry  her.  Which  ?  How  much  we  should  like  to  know  ! 
But  that  she  does  not  tell  us.  Her  grandmother,  old  Madame 
Dupin,  did  not  share  the  almost  universal  enthusiasm  for  the 
Emperor — she  had  lived  her  long  life  mostly  under  thejBour- 
bons,  had  nearly  lost  her  head  under  the  Terror,  and  had  been 
a  pupil  of  the  philosophers  who  were  in  fashion  during  the 
last  days  of  the  old  regime.  She  had  inspired  her  son  with 
some  of  her  feelings  towards  Napoleon  ;  yet,  though  Maurice 
might  and  did  condemn  many  of  the  Emperor's  acts,  he  could 
not,  as  he  says  himself,  help  loving  him.  '  There  is  something 
in  him,'  he  writes  to  his  wife,  '  apart  from  his  genius,  which 
moves  me  in  spite  of  myself  when  his  eye  catches  mine,'  and 
it  is  this  involuntary  fascination,  his  daughter  tells  us,  which 
would  have  prevented  him  not  only  from  betraying  Napoleon, 
but  from  rallying  to  the  Bourbons.  Even  his  mother,  Royalist 
as  she  was,  knew  this. 

'  Ah! '  she  would  exclaim  in  after  years;  'if  my  poor  Maurice 
had  been  alive  he  would  certainly  have  found  death  at 
Waterloo  or  beneath  the  walls  of  Paris,  or  if  he  had  escaped 
there,  he  would  have  blown  out  his  brains  at  seeing  the 
Cossacks  marching  through  the  gates.' 

But  in  the  springtime  of  1811,  none  of  the  dark  days  so 
near  at  hand  were  throwing  then-  shadows  over  France.  '  His 


172        THE  TRIALS  OF  M.  DESCHARTRES 

Majesty  the  King  of  Rome  '  was  only  a  few  weeks  old,  and 
the  sound  of  the  hundred- and- one  guns  which  had  greeted  his 
birth  were  still  ringing  in  the  ears  of  Aurore,  who  had  heard 
them  in  Paris.  No  doubt  she  often  talked  to  her  friend 
Ursule  and  her  half-brother  Hippolyte,  both  then  at  Nohant, 
of  the  excitement  of  the  people  in  the  streets  of  Paris  when 
she  walked  through  them  with  her  mother,  for  Aurore  was 
a  child  who  noticed  things  and  also  remembered  them ;  but 
soon  the  life  of  the  country  absorbed  her,  and  besides,  there 
were  her  lessons  to  do.  Old  Madame  Dupin  taught  her  music, 
which  they  both  loved,  and  from  M.  Deschartres — who  had 
lived  at  Nohant  for  years  and  years  and  was  a  little  of  every- 
thing— she  learnt  grammar,  and,  much  against  her  will,  Latin 
too,  as  Deschartres  thought  it  would  be  of  use  to  her  in  under- 
standing and  speaking  French.  He  was  perfectly  right,  but 
even  as  a  middle-aged  woman  Aurore  protests  that  the  time 
spent  in  such  studies  was  wasted,  for  at  the  end  of  years 
children  knew  nothing  about  them. 

What  would  she  have  said  if  she  had  known  of  the  seven 
or  eight  extraordinarily  difficult  and  different  languages 
which  the  little  Austrian  Archdukes  learnt  to  speak  and  write 
correctly  while  they  were  still  children  ?  Luckily  Aurore 
loved  books,  though  she  preferred  to  choose  them  for  herself, 
and  she  knew  a  good  many  curious  things  which  she  would 
never  have  learned  from  any  tutor. 

Poor  M.  Deschartres  did  not  have  an  easy  time  with 
his  three  pupils  Aurore,  Hippolyte,  and  Ursule.  He  was 
rather  a  dandy  and  was  very  particular  about  his  shoes,  and 
walked  always  with  stiff  knees  and  toes  turned  out.  One 
day  Hippolyte  took  it  into  his  naughty  head  to  prepare  a 
*  booby  trap  '  for  his  tutor,  of  a  kind  very  popular  with  the 
village  children.  He  dug,  right  in  the  middle  of  Deschartres' 
favourite  walk,  a  hole  filled  with  fine  liquid  mud  and  concealed 
by  sticks  crossed  on  the  top,  and  covered  with  earth  scattered 
over  with  dead  leaves,  collected  by  Aurore  and  Ursule.  They 
were  old  hands  at  this  game,  and  many  a  time  had  the 
gardener  or  the  peasants  fallen  victims  to  it,  but  this  was 
the  first  occasion  on  which  they  had  been  bold  enough  to  try 


THE  TRIALS  OF  M.  DE8C  HART  RES          173 

it  on  M.  Deschartres.  Walking  a  little  in  front,  in  his  accus- 
tomed manner,  his  head  up,  his  hands  behind  him,  he  pro- 
ceeded down  the  path,  the  children  following  with  dancing 
eyes.  Suddenly  plop,  a  splash,  and  a  stagger  !  and  M.  Des- 
chartres was  seen  pulling  himself  up  on  the  other  side, 
but  without  his  beautiful  shoes,  which  had  stuck  in  the  mud. 
Hippolyte  pressed  forward,  his  face  expressing  surprise  and 
horror  at  such  a  misfortune,  and  the  tutor,  easily  taken  in, 
turned  angrily  upon  the  little  girls,  who  ran  away  shrieking 
with  laughter.  They  knew  they  would  get  nothing  worse 
than  a  scolding,  whatever  they  did,  whereas  a  beating,  and 
a  bad  one,  would  be  the  certain  fate  of  Hippolyte. 

Deschartres,  as  has  been  said,  performed  the  duties  of  a 
steward  of  the  estate,  as  well  as  those  of  tutor  to  the  children, 
and  on  one  occasion  he  left  Nohant  quite  early  in  the  morning 
to  superintend  the  sale  of  some  cattle  at  a  neighbouring  fair. 
Hippolyte  always  did  his  lessons  in  the  room  of  the  great 
man,  and  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  would  be  fun  to  play 
at  being  the  great  man  himself.  So  without  more  ado  he 
pulled  out  of  the  wardrobe  a  hunting-coat,  which  reached  to 
his  heels,  took  a  hunting-cap  from  a  peg,  and  marched  up 
and  down  witlr  his  toes  turned  out  and  his  hands  behind  his 
back,  in  exact  imitation  of  M.  Deschartres,  the  little  girls 
watching  it  all*  from  a  corner.  He  next  approached  the 
blackboard,  and  began  to  draw  some  figures  with  a  piece  of 
chalk,  stopped  in  the  middle,  stammered  and  grew  angry, 
abusing  his  pupil  for  being  a  doll  and  a  blockhead.  When  he 
was  satisfied  that  he  could  really  imitate  the  voice  and  manner 
of  his  master,  he  went  to  the  window  and  found  fault  with 
the  gardener's  way  of  pruning  trees,  threatening  in  loud 
tones  to  inform  Madame  of  his  stupidity.  The  gardener, 
standing  a  little  distance  off,  fell  into  the  trap  and  defended 
himself  sulkily,  but  what  was  his  surprise  when  he  lifted  his 
eyes  and  beheld  the  true  Deschartres  standing  a  few  paces 
from  him,  but  out  of  sight  of  his  copy  at  the  window  ?  The 
tutor  may  possibly  have  been  amused  at  the  imitation,  but 
he  was  not  the  man  to  allow  his  dignity  to  be  tampered  with. 
He  noiselessly  mounted  the  staircase  to  his  room,  to  find 


174          THE  TRIALS  OF  M.  DESCHARTEES 

Hippolyte  with  his  back  turned,  saying,  in  a  loud  voice,  to 
an  invisible  pupil  at  the  table : 

'  What  is  the  good  of  expecting  you  to  work  ?  You  write 
like  a  cat  and  spell  like  a  porter.  Perhaps  this  will  wake 
you  up  a  little  ' — and  here  there  was  the  sound  of  a  smack — 
'  you  lazy  little  dog.' 

And  for  the  spectators  the  scene  was  at  this  moment 
doubled,  and  while  the  false  Deschartres  was  boxing  the  ears 
of  an  imaginary  Hippolyte,  the  real  Hippolyte  was  having  his 
ears  boxed  by  the  true  Deschartres. 

There  is  no  doubt,  Aurore  tells  us  in  after  years,  that 
Hippolyte  was  really  very  ill-treated  by  his  tutor,  and  lacked 
the  courage  to  stand  up  to  him,  or  even  to  complain  to  his 
grandmother.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  to  be  denied 
that  the  boy  displayed  the  most  amazing  ingenuity  in  showing 
up  the  absurdities  of  Deschartres.  Often,  during  lesson  hours, 
Deschartres  would  be  obliged  hurriedly  to  leave  his  pupils  to 
attend  to  something  which  had  gone  wrong  in  the  house  or 
the  farm.  Then  Hippolyte  would  instantly  seize  his  master's 
flageolet  and  play  it  with  all  the  airs  and  graces  assumed  by 
Deschartres.  Ursule  on  her  side,  who  worked  steadily  as  long 
as  her  tutor  was  present,  grew  perfectly  wild  when  they  were 
left  to  themselves.  She  climbed  over  the  furniture,  played 
ball  with  Deschartres'  slippers,  flung  about  his  clothes,  and 
mixed  together  all  the  little  bags  of  seeds  that  he  had  put 
aside  for  experiments  in  the  garden.  In  this  sport  she  was 
joined  by  Aurore,  and  together  they  shuffled  the  pages  of 
manuscripts  which  he  had  received  from  learned  men  of  the 
Society  of  Agriculture.  It  is  strange  that,  with  all  his  ex- 
perience of  his  pupils,  Deschartres  never  suspected  that  they 
were  the  authors  of  these  misfortunes,  and,  still  more,  that 
he  did  not  lock  up  his  treasures.  But  as  Aurore  makes  no 
mention  of  discovery  or  whippings,  we  must  suppose  they  did 
not  receive  the  punishments  they  richly  deserved. 

As  the  winter  drew  near,  old  Madame  Dupin  began  to 
consider  the  question  of  their  move  to  Paris,  and  what  was  to 


THE  TRIALS  OF  M.  DESCHARTRES          175 

be  done  with  the  children.  At  length  she  decided  that  Hip- 
poly  te  must  be  sent  to  school  there,  and  that  he  should  make 
the  journey  on  horseback  in  company  with  M.  Deschartre-s. 
As  we  know,  Hippolyte  loved  to  run  wild,  and  was  not 
anxious  to  lose  his  freedom  and  be  shut  up  in  a  French  school 
(which  was  much  stricter  than  an  English  one),  but  all  possible 
future  pains  were  forgotten  in  the  fact  that  if  he  rode  he 
must  have  a  pair  of  high  boots — for  long  the  object  of  his 
dearest  ambition.  How  he  pined  for  them  may  be  guessed 
from  the  fact  that  he  had  tried  when  at  Nohant  to  make  some 
for  himself.  He  had  found  an  old  pair  of  his  tutor's,  which  he 
fancied  might  form  the  upper  part,  while  he  expected  to  get 
the  foot-soles  out  of  a  large  piece  of  leather — probably  once 
the  apron  of  a  '  chaise  ' — that  he  picked  up  in  the  stables. 
For  four  days  and  nights  the  boy  worked,  cutting,  measuring 
and  sewing,  till  he  succeeded  in  producing  a  pair  of  shapeless 
objects,  worthy  of  an  Esquimaux,  which  split  the  first  day 
he  wore  them. 

'  Never,'  writes  his  sister  thirty  years  after, '  never  did  I  see 
anybody  so  entirely  happy  as  Hippolyte  when  the  shoemaker 
brought  him  home  real  riding-boots  with  heels  clamped  with 
iron,  and  tiny  holes  to  receive  the  spurs.  The  prospect  of 
the  journey  to  Paris— the  first  he  had  ever  taken— the  joy  of 
performing  it  on  horseback,  the  idea  of  getting  rid  of  Des- 
chartres,  all  wrere  as  nothing  in  the  light  of  those  boots. 
Even  now,'  she  continues,  '  he  will  tell  you  himself  that  his 
whole  life  did  not  contain  a  joy  to  compare  with  the  joy  of 
that  moment.  "  Talk  of  a  first  love  !  "  he  would  cry;  "  my 
first  love  was  a  pair  of  boots." 

We  may  be  quite  sure  Hippolyte  did  not  allow  his  friends 
to  forget  the  treasure  which  had  come  into  his  possession.  To 
Aurore,  in  particular,  he  showed  them  so  often,  displaying 
their  special  excellences  and  calling  on  her  to  admire  them, 
that  at  last  they  haunted  her  dreams.  The  evening  before 
their  departure  he  drew  them  proudly  on,  and  never  took 
them  off  till  he  reached  Paris  !  But  even  so,  he  could  not 
sleep.  Not  that  he  was  afraid  of  his  spurs  tearing  the  sheets, 
but  of  the  sheets  dimming  the  brilliance  of  his  boots.  By 


176         THE  TRIALS  OF  M.  DESC  HART  RES 

midnight  he  was  so  distracted  at  this  terrible  prospect  that 
he  got  out  of  bed  and  went  into  Aurore's  room  to  examine 
them  by  the  light  of  her  fire.  Aurore's  maid,  who  slept  next 
door,  tried  to  make  him  go  away,  as  ehe  said  they  would  all 
have  to  be  up  early  next  morning  and  would  be  very  tired 
before  they  finished  their  journey.  But  she  need  not  have 
troubled  herself ;  Hippolyte  did  not  pay  the  slightest  atten- 
tion to  her,  but  merely  woke  up  Aurore  to  ask  her  opinion 
about  the  boots,  and  then  sat  down  before  the  fire,  not  wishing 
even  to  sleep,  as  that  would  be  to  lose  some  minutes  of  exquisite 
joy.  At  length,  however,  fatigue  got  the  better  of  him,  and 
in  the  morning  when  the  maid  came  to  wake  Aurore,  she 
found  Hippolyte  stretched  on  the  floor  in  front  of  the  hearth, 
unconscious  of  everybody  and  everything — even  of  his  boots. 


AURORE  AT  PLAY 

WHEN  Aurore  Dupin  went  to  Paris  she  found  herself  in  the 
Rue  Thiroux,  where  Madame  Dupin  had  taken  a  suite  of  rooms, 
or,  as  the  French  say,  an  '  appartement.'  For  this  '  apparte- 
ment '  the  old  lady  paid  a  high  rent — more  than  she  could 
afford,  indeed  ;  but  she  clung  to  the  ancient  custom  of  a  flat 
with  a  large  drawing-room,  where  the  friends  of  the  host  and 
hostess  could  meet  once  or  twice  a  year.  During  the  rest  of 
the  time  it  was  kept  shut,  and  all  but  rich  and  fashionable 
people  lived  in  their  bedrooms.  As  Madame  Dupin  never  gave 
parties  at  all,  she  might  have  done  without  the  salon  and 
housed  herself  for  half  the  price,  but  that  she  would  have 
thought  beneath  her  dignity,  and  would  have  starved  first. 

Though  Ursule  was  left  behind  at  Nohant,  Aurore  had 
other  playfellows,  with  one  of  whom,  Pauline  de  Pontcarre, 
she  did  lessons.  Pauline  was  a  very  pretty  little  girl,  much 
less  heedless  than  Aurore,  and  less  in  the  habit  of  losing  her 
gloves  and  dropping  her  handkerchief.  Madame  Dupin  was 
always  praising  her  for  being  so  well  brought  up,  and  wishing 
that  Aurore  had  such  nice  manners ;  but  instead  of  this 
making  Pauline  hated  by  her  new  friend,  Aurore  admired  her 
beauty  and  was  quite  fond  of  her.  Three  times  a  week  they 
had  lessons  together  at  Madame  Dupin's  in  music,  writing,  and 
dancing.  The  dancing- master  came  direct  from  the  opera, 
and  was  one  of  the  best  in  Paris  ;  the  writing-master  was  also 
a  person  of  high  reputation,  but  unluckily  he  was  of  opinion 
that  a  graceful  attitude  at  a  desk  was  of  more  importance 
than  a  clear  hand,  and  Aurore  soon  became  very  impatient 
with  his  teaching. 

On  the  other  three  days  Madame  de  Pontcarre  (who,  unlike 
Madame  Dupin,  loved  walking)  came  to  fetch  Aurore  to  her 
own  house,  where  Pauline  was  awaiting  them. 

177  N 


178  AURORE  AT  PLAY 

It  Avas  Madame  de  Pontcarre  herself  who  taught  them  geo- 
graphy and  history  by  a  method  invented  by  the  Abbe  Gaultier 
that  was  much  in  fashion  at  that  period.  It  sounds  as 
if  it  must  have  been  like  those  used  in  the  kindergartens 
to-day,  for  everything  was  a  sort  of  game,  and  played  with 
balls  and  counters.  But  best  of  all  the  hours  spent  at  Madame 
de  Pontcarre's  were  those  when  Aurore  sat  and  listened  to  her 
friend  singing  and  playing,  or  learned  from  her  some  of  the 
principles  of  musical  composition.  This  was  even  a  greater 
joy  than  the  romps  with  Pauline's  cousins  in  a  big  garden 
in  the  Rue  de  la  Victoire  belonging  to  Madame  de  Pontcarre's 
mother,  where  there  was  plenty  of  room  for  blindman's  buff, 
or  for  the  game  known  in  Scotland  as  '  tig.'  In  this  game— 
barres  was  the  French  name — the  children  were  formed  into 
two  camps,  the  object  being  to  take  as  many  prisoners  as 
possible.  Sometimes  they  all  dined  together  and  afterwards 
the  dining-room  was  cleared  out,  and  they  played  games  in 
which  their  mothers  or  even  the  servants  joined.  How 
horrified  old  Madame  Dupin  would  have  been  at  the  noise 
they  made  !  She  would  not  have  thought  them  at  all '  well 
brought  up.' 

Aurore  gives  a  very  funny  account  of  the  way  in  which 
Hippolyte  danced,  for  he  lived  at  home  and  only  went  to 
school  for  certain  classes.  It  was  all  very  well  for  him  and 
Aurore  to  laugh  secretly  when  M.  Gogault,  the  dancing-master, 
entered  the  room  '  like  a  zephyr  cutting  a  caper ' ;  but  it  was 
M.  Gogault's  turn  to  smile  when  Hippolyte,  who  was  more 
heavy  and  awkward  than  it  was  possible  to  imagine,  nearly 
brought  down  the  house  when  he  did  his  steps,  and  shook  the 
walls  in  his  attempts  to  chasser.  If  he  was  told  to  hold  his 
head  up  and  not  to  poke,  he  took  his  chin  in  his  hand,  and 
kept  it  there  all  the  time  he  was  dancing.  And  all  this  he 
did  with  the  utmost  seriousness,  and  with  no  idea  of  being 
troublesome.  But  at  school  he  only  got  into  mischief,  and 
when  the  whole  Dupin  family  returned  to  Nohant  in  the 
spring,  it  was  thought  best  for  Hippolyte  to  go  with  them. 

It  was  there  during  the  next  few  months  that,  in  the 
intervals  of  play  and  laughter,  Aurore  first  paid  attention  to 


AURORE  AT  PLAY  179 

the  conversation  of  her  elders  as  to  the  result  of  the  Russian 
campaign  and  the  future  of  France.  Nowadays  it  seems  to 
us  almost  impossible  to  believe  that  for  a  whole  fortnight  no 
news  was  received  of  the  French  Army  of  300,000  men,  and 
still  more  that  Napoleon,  '  the  man  who  filled  the  universe 
with  his  name  and  Europe  with  his  presence,'  should  have 
disappeared  like  a  pilgrim  lost  in  the  snow.  At  Nohant 
no  one  spoke  of  anything  else,  till  one  night  this  child  of 
eight,  who  had  silently  brooded  over  the  words  of  her  elders, 
had  a  curious  dream,  so  clear  that  it  was  almost  a  vision. 
She  felt  herself  hovering  in  the  air  above  endless  white  plains, 
with  the  wandering  columns  of  the  vanished  army  straggling 
they  knew  not  where,  and  guided  them  towards  France. 
When  she  awoke  she  was  as  tired  and  hungry  as  if  she  had 
taken  a  long  flight,  and  her  eyes  were  still  dazzled  by  the  snow. 

In  the  summer  of  1813 — the  year  of  the  victories  of  Lutzen, 
Bautzen,  and  Dresden — prisoners  of  war  were  sent  to  all  parts 
of  the  country,  many  of  them  not  even  under  a  guard.  The 
first  prisoner  that  the  children  noticed  was  an  officer  sitting  on 
the  steps  of  a  little  pavilion  at  the  end  of  their  garden.  His 
shoes  were  dropping  to  pieces  though  his  coat  and  shirt  were 
of  the  finest  material,  and  in  his  hand  he  held  the  miniature 
of  a  woman  suspended  from  his  neck  by  a  black  ribbon,  which 
he  was  examining  sadly.  They  both  felt  awed — they  did  not 
know  why — and  were  afraid  to  speak  to  him.  But  in  a  moment 
his  servant  came  up,  and  the  two  went  away  silently  together. 
After  that,  such  numbers  passed  by  that  the  peasants  paid 
no  attention  to  them,  and  even  Aurore  and  Hippolyte  speedily 
grew  accustomed  to  the  sight.  One  morning,  in  spite  of  the 
stifling  heat,  they  were  again  playing  near  the  pavilion,  when 
one  of  these  poor  wretches  passed  and  flung  himself  wearily  on 
the  steps.  He  was  a  German  with  a  simple  good-natured 
face,  and  the  children  went  up  and  spoke  to  him,  but  he  only 
shook  his  head  and  answered  in  French,  '  me  not  understand.' 
Then  Aurore  made  signs  to  ask  if  he  was  thirsty,  and  in  reply 
the  man  pointed  to  some  stagnant  water  in  the  ditch.  They 
contrived  to  convey  to  him  by  violent  head-shakings  that  it 

N  2 


180  AURORE  AT  PLAY 

was  not  good  to  drink,  and,  further,  that  he  must  wait  a 
minute  and  they  would  get  him  something.  As  fast  as  they 
could,  they  ran  to  the  house  and  brought  back  a  bottle  of 
wine  and  some  bread,  which  he  swallowed.  When  he  had 
finished,  and  felt  better,  he  held  out  his  hand  repeatedly 
and  they  thought  he  wanted  money.  Not  having  any  them- 
selves, Aurore  was  going  to  ask  her  grandmother  for  some,  but 
the  German,  guessing  her  intention,  stopped  her,  and  made 
signs  that  he  only  desired  to  shake  hands.  His  eyes  were 
full  of  tears,  and  he  was  evidently  trying  hard  to  say  some- 
thing. At  last  he  got  it  out :  '  Children  very  good.' 

Filled  with  pity  they  ran  back  to  tell  Madame  Dupin,  who, 
remembering  how  her  own  son  had  been  taken  prisoner  by  the 
Croats,  gave  orders  that  every  day  a  certain  number  of  bottles 
of  wine  and  loaves  of  bread  should  be  placed  in  the  pavilion 
for  the  use  of  these  unfortunate  Germans.  Every  instant  of 
freedom  that  Hippolyte  and  Aurore  could  get  was  spent  in 
that  pavilion,  handing  slices  of  bread  and  cups  of  wine  to  the 
weary  creatures  sitting  on  the  steps,  who  were  so  gentle  and 
grateful  for  the  unexpected  help.  Sometimes,  when  three  or 
four  arrived  together,  they  would  sing  to  their  little  hosts 
some  of  their  national  songs  before  they  left.  Their  talent 
for  singing  and  dancing  gained  them  friends  all  through  the 
country,  and  now  and  then  gained  them  wives  also. 

The  troubled  years  from  1814  to  1817  passed  away  and 
Aurore  remained  at  Nohant  with  her  grandmother,  who  was 
constantly  growing  more  and  more  helpless  from  a  stroke  of 
paralysis.  Aurore  was  left  very  much  to  herself,  but  studied 
music  under  the  organist  of  the  neighbouring  village,  learnt 
history  and  geography,  and  read  Homer  and  Tasso  in  trans- 
lations. But  her  real  life  was  the  one  she  created  for  herself, 
presided  over  by  a  mystic  personage  to  whom  she  gave  the 
name  of  Corambe.  In  her  mind,  he  represented  all  that  was 
kind  and  pitiful,  and  in  the  thickness  of  a  wood  in  the  corner 
of  the  garden  she  made  him  a  temple.  That  is  to  say,  she 
decorated  the  trees  which  stood  about  a  round  green  space, 
with  coloured  pebbles,  fresh  moss,  or  anything  else  she  could 


Al'RORK    SETS    FREE    THE    CAPTIVE    BlRUS   AT    THE    ALTAR    OF    CORAMBE. 


AURORE  AT  PLAY  181 

find.  A  sort  of  altar  was  next  put  together  at  the  foot  of 
a  large  maple  from  whose  boughs  hung  wreaths  of  pink 
and  white  shells,  while  trails  of  ivy  reaching  from  one  tree  to 
another  formed  an  arcade.  Empty  birds'  nests,  chaplets  of 
flowers  and  moss  were  soon  added,  and  when  the  temple 
was  done  it  seemed  so  lovely  to  the  child  that  often  she  could 
hardly  sleep  at  night  for  thinking  of  it. 

It  is  needless  to  say  all  would  have  been  spoilt  for  Aurore 
had  the  '  grown-ups  '  guessed  at  the  existence  of  her  precious 
temple  or  of  Corambe.  She  took  the  greatest  care  to  pick 
up  her  shells  and  the  fallen  birds'  nests  as  if  she  really  hardly 
knew  what  she  was  doing,  and  was  thinking  of  something 
else  all  the  time.  Never  did  she  enter  the  wood  except 
when  alone,  and  then  from  a  direction  different  from  that 
which  she  had  taken  before. 

When  the  temple  was  ready,  it  was  necessary  to  know 
what  the  sacrifice  wras  to  be.  Nothing  dead  should  be  offered 
to  Corambe.  Of  that  she  was  certain.  Then  if  no  dead  sacrifice 
was  to  be  laid  before  him,  why  should  he  not  become  the 
champion  and  deliverer  of  living  objects  in  danger  of  death  ? 
So  Liset,  a  boy  older  than  herself  and  her  faithful  follower,  was 
ordered  to  catch  birds  and  butterflies  and  even  insects  in  the 
fields,  and  carry  them  to  her,  unhurt.  What  she  was  going  to 
do  with  them,  he  neither  knew  nor  cared,  for  Aurore  had 
kept  her  secret  well.  Great  would  have  been  his  surprise 
had  he  known  that  daily  these  captive  swallows,  redbreasts, 
chaffinches,  or  dragon-flies  were  borne  tenderly  to  the  altar 
of  Corambe,  and  there  set  free.  If  one  happened  to  perch 
for  an  instant  on  a  branch  above  her  head  before  disappearing 
into  the  blue,  a  thrill  of  ecstasy  ran  through  the  priestess. 

But  one  day  Liset,  who  had  been  sent  to  look  for  her, 
caught  sight  of  her  white  frock  as  she  was  entering  the  wood. 
And  with  his  words: 

'  Oh,  ma'mselle,  what  a  pretty  little  altar !  '  the  spell  of  her 
story  was  broken,  and  it  is  a  spell  that  can  never  be  cast  twice. 

Aurore,  however,  did  not  always  have  dryads  and  cherubs 
and  wonder-working  spirits  for  company  ;  Hippolyte  would 


182  AURORE  AT  PLAY 

not  have  allowed  anything  of  the  sort,  for  he  liked  Aurore  to 
be  with  him,  whatever  he  was  doing.  They  had  many  friends 
too,  both  boys  and  girls,  with  whom  they  climbed  trees,  played 
games,  and  even  kept  sheep,  which  means  that  they  did  not 
keep  them  at  all,  but  let  them  trample  down  the  young  wheat 
in  the  fields  or  eat  it,  if  they  preferred,  while  they  them- 
selves were  dancing.  If  they  were  thirsty,  they  milked  the 
cows  and  the  goats  ;  if  they  were  hungry  they  ate  wild  apples 
or  made  a  fire  and  cooked  potatoes.  Aurore's  particular 
favourites  were  two  girls  called  Marie  and  Solange,  daughters 
of  a  small  farmer,  and  whenever  she  could  get  away  she  ran  up 
to  the  farm,  and  helped  them  seek  for  eggs,  pick  fruit,  or  nurse 
the  sickly  little  lambs.  And  apart  from  the  pleasure  the  others 
took  in  all  this,  Aurore  found  one  of  her  own,  for  the  orchard 
became  transformed  by  her  fancy  into  a  fairy  wood,  with  little 
creatures  having  sharp  ears  and  merry  eyes  peeping  from 
behind  the  trees.  Then  her  dreams  would  be  roughly  dis- 
persed by  Hippolyte's  voice,  summoning  her  to  the  most 
delightful  of  all  the  games  they  ever  played,  which  was  to 
jump  from  some  high  place  into  the  mountain  of  sheaves 
piled  up  in  the  barn. 

'  I  should  like  to  do  it  now,  if  I  dared,'  says  Aurore  thirty 
years  after. 

At  length  it  occurred  to  Madame  Dupin  that  Aurore  was 
thirteen,  and  needed  better  teaching  than  M.  Deschartres 
could  give  her,  and,  still  worse,  that  the  child  was  running 
wild,  that  her  complexion  was  getting  ruined,  and  that  if  she 
was  ever  to  wear  the  thin  elegant  slippers  worn  by  other  young 
ladies,  she  must  grow  accustomed  to  them  before  the  sabots, 
or  wooden  shoes  worn  by  the  peasants,  had  spoilt  her  for  every- 
thing else.  She  wanted,  in  fact,  proper  training,  so  her  grand- 
mother was  going  to  take  her  to  Paris  at  once,  and  to  place 
her  in  a  convent. 

'  And  shall  I  see  my  mother  ?  '  cried  Aurore. 

'  Yes ;  certainly  you  will  see  her,'  replied  Madame  Dupin  ;. 
'  and  after  that  you  will  see  neither  of  us,  but  will  give  all 
your  time  to  your  education.' 


AURORE  AT  PLAY  183 

Aurore  did  not  mind.  She  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  the 
life  she  would  lead  in  the  convent,  but  it  would  at  any  rate  be 
something  new.  So,  '  without  fear,  or  regret,  or  repugnance,' 
as  she  herself  tells  us,  she  entered  the  '  Couvent  des  Anglaises,' 
where  both  Madame  Dupin  and  her  own  mother  had  been  im- 
prisoned during  the  Revolution.  This,  of  course,  gave  the 
convent  a  special  interest  for  Aurore. 

The  Couvent  des  Anglaises  was  the  only  remaining  one  of 
three  or  four  British  religious  houses  which  had  been  founded 
in  Paris  during  the  time  of  Cromwell,  and  as  a  school,  ranked 
with  the  convents  of  the  Sacre-Cceur  and  of  1'Abbaye-aux-Bois. 
Queen  Henrietta  Maria  used  often  to  come  and  pray  in  the 
chapel,  and  this  fact  rendered  the  Couvent  des  Anglaises 
peculiarly  dear  to  English  royalists.  All  the  nuns  were  either 
English,  Scotch,  or  Irish,  and  nearly  all  the  girls — at  least, 
when  Aurore  went  there — were  subjects  of  King  George  also. 
As  it  was  strictly  forbidden  during  certain  hours  of  the  day  to 
speak  a  word  of  French,  Aurore  had  every  possible  chance  of 
learning  English.  She  learnt,  too,  something  about  English 
habits,  for  the  nuns  drank  tea  three  times  a  day,  and  invited 
the  best  behaved  of  the  girls  to  share  it  with  them.  All  was 
as  English  as  it  could  be  made.  In  the  chapel  were  the  tombs 
bearing  English  texts  and  epitaphs,  of  holy  exiles  who  had  died 
abroad.  On  the  walls  of  the  Superior's  private  rooms  hung 
the  portraits  of  English  princes  and  bishops  long  dead,  among 
whom  Mary  Queen  of  Scots — counted  as  a  saint  by  the  nuns — 
held  the  central  place.  In  fact,  the  moment  the  threshold 
was  crossed,  you  seemed  to  have  crossed  the  Channel  also. 
The  Mother  Superior  at  the  date  of  Aurore's  entrance  was 
a  certain  Madame  Canning,  a  clever  woman  with  a  large 
experience  of  the  world. 

Like  many  children  brought  up  at  home,  Aurore  had 
read  a  great  deal  in  her  own  way,  but  was  very  ignorant  of 
other  subjects  familiar  to  girls  younger  than  herself,  who  had 
been  educated  at  school.  This  she  was  well  aware  of,  so  it 
was  no  surprise  to  her,  though  a  disappointment  to  her 
grandmother,  when  she  was  confided  by  the  Superior  to  the 
pupils  of  the  second  class,  whose  ages  varied  from  six  to 


184  AURORE  AT  PLAY 

thirteen  or  fourteen.  Aurore  was  never  shy  and  did  not  in 
the  least  mind  being  stared  at  by  thirty  or  forty  pairs  of  eyes, 
and  at  once  set  out  to  explore  the  garden  and  examine 
everything  in  company  with  one  of  the  older  girls,  in  whose 
charge  she  had  been  put.  When  they  had  visited  every 
corner,  they  were  called  to  play  at  '  bars,'  and  as  Aurore 
could  run  like  a  hare,  she  soon  gained  the  respect  of  her 
schoolfellows. 

The  three  years  passed  by  Aurore  in  the  Couvent  des 
Anglaises  were,  she  tells  us,  happy  ones  for  her,  though  almost 
without  exception  her  schoolfellows  were  pining,  or  thought 
they  were,  for  their  homes  and  their  mothers.  But  after  the 
free  life  and  country  air  of  Nohant  the  confinement  and  lack 
of  change  tried  her,  and  for  a  while  she  grew  weak  and  languid. 
Twice  in  every  month  the  girls  were  allowed  to  spend  the  day 
\vith  their  friends,  and  on  New  Year's  Day  they  might  sleep 
at  home.  Of  course,  in  the  summer  there  were  regular  holi- 
days, but  Madame  Dupin  decided  that  Aurore  had  better  stay 
at  school  and  learn  all  she  could,  so  by  that  means  she  might 
finish  the  regular  course  earlier  than  usual,  and  save  money. 
It  was  then  the  custom  of  all  schools  both  in  England  and 
France  to  keep  the  girls  under  strict  watch,  and  never  permit 
them  to  be  one  moment  alone.  The  garden  was  very  large, 
and  Aurore  at  least  would  have  been  perfectly  content  to 
remain  in  it,  had  not  such  elaborate  precautions  been  taken  to 
prevent  the  girls  even  seeing  through  tho  door  when  it  was 
opened,  into  the  dull  street  outside.  These  precautions 
enraged  the  others,  and  only  made  them  eager  for  glimpses 
of  a  passing  cab  or  a  horse  and  cart,  though  on  their  days  of 
freedom  they  would  walk  through  the  most  brilliant  parts  of 
Paris  with  their  parents,  and  never  trouble  to  turn  their 
heads.  But  Aurore  was  only  amused  at  what  irritated  them, 
and  felt,  for  her  part,  that 

Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 
Nor  iron  bars  a  cage. 

It  was  foolish,  she  thought,  to   make  so  much  fuss   about 
nothing ;  but  after  all,  what  did  it  matter  ? 


AURORE  AT  PLAY  185 

Now  both  the  big  and  little  classes  had  divided  themselves 
into  three  camps  :  the  '  good  '  girls,  who  would  probably  one 
day  become  nuns  ;  the  '  demons,'  or  rebels,  who  were  always 
inventing  some  new  kind  of  mischief  ;  and  the  '  idiots,'  who 
were  afraid  to  take  sides.  These  profoundly  despised  by  the 
rest,  would  shake  with  laughter  over  the  pranks  of  the  '  demons,' 
but  put  on  a  solemn  face  at  the  appearance  of  one  of  the 
mistresses,  and  hastened  to  cry  at  the  approach  of  danger : 
'  It  was  not  I  !  '  'It  was  not  I !  '  unless  they  went  further  and 
exclaimed,  '  It  was  Dupin,'  or  '  it  was  G.'  '  Dupin  '  was 
Aurore,  and  '  G.'  a  wild  Irish  girl  of  eleven,  tall  and  strong  and 
truthful  and  clever,  but  utterly  unruly,  and  the  terror  of 
the  '  idiots  '  of  the  younger  class. 

As  soon  as  Mary  G.  discovered  that  Aurore  did  not  mind 
being  teased  or  being  thumped  on  the  shoulder  by  a  hand 
which  might  have  felled  an  ox,  she  felt  that  she  had  found 
a  friend  who  would  join  in  her  maddest  tricks.  Aurore's 
education  in  this  respect  was  not  long  in  beginning.  The 
very  next  day  as  the  mistress  was  handing  round  books  and 
slates  to  the  class,  Mary  quietly  walked  out,  followed  in  two 
or  three  minutes  by  Aurore.  Both  girls  went  to  the  empty 
cloister,  and  began  to  talk  : 

'  I  am  glad  you  came,'  said  Mary.  '  The  others  are 
always  making  excuses  for  getting  away,  and  declaring  their 
noses  are  bleeding  or  they  want  to  practise,  or  some  stupid 
old  story  like  that.  I  never  tell  lies  ;  it  is  so  cowardly.  If 
they  ask  me  where  I  have  been,  I  don't  answer.  If  they 
punish  me — well,  let  them  !  I  just  do  as  I  like.' 

'  That  would  just  suit  me.' 

'  You  are  a  demon  then  !  ' 

'  I  should  like  to  be.' 

'  As  much  as  I  am  ?  ' 

'  Neither  more  nor  less.' 

'  Accepted,'  answered  Mary,  giving  Aurore  a  shake  of  the 
hand.  '  Now  we  will  go  back  and  behave  quite  properly  to 
Mother  Alippe.  She  is  a  good  old  thing.  We  will  reserve 
ourselves  for  Mother  D.  Ah,  you  don't  know  her  yet  !  Every 
evening  outside  the  class-room.  Do  you  understand  ? ' 


186  AURORE  AT  PLAY 

'  No.     What  do  you  mean  by  "  outside  the  class  room  "  ?  ' 

'  Well,  the  games  after  supper  under  the  superintendence 
of  Mother  D.  are  dreadfully  dull.  So  when  we  come  out  of 
the  dining-room  we  will  slip  away,  and  not  come  back  till  it  is 
time  for  prayers.  Sometimes  Mother  D.  does  not  miss  us,  but 
generally  she  is  enchanted  that  we  should  run  away,  because 
then  she  can  have  the  pleasure  of  punishing  us  when  we  come 
in.  The  punishment  is  to  wear  your  nightcap  all  the  next 
day,  even  in  chapel.  In  this  kind  of  weather  it  is  very  pleasant 
and  good  for  the  health,  and  though  the  nuns  you  meet  cry 
'  Shame  !  shame  !  '  that  hurts  nobody.  If  in  the  course  of  a 
fortnight  you  have  worn  many  nightcaps,  the  Superior 
threatens  not  to  allow  you  to  go  out  on  the  next  holiday,  but 
she  either  forgets  or  forgives  you  at  the  request  of  your  parents. 
When  you  have  worn  the  nightcap  so  long  that  it  seems  to  have 
grown  on  your  head,  you  are  locked  up  for  a  day.  But  after 
all,  it  is  better  to  give  up  amusing  yourself  for  a  single  day 
than  to  bore  yourself  perpetually  of  your  own  freewill.' 

Aurore  quite  agreed  with  Mary's  reasoning,  and  found 
the  time  very  long  till  supper.  The  whole  school  had  meals 
together,  and  then  came  the  hour  of  play  before  prayers  and 
bed.  The  older  ones  went  to  their  large  and  beautiful  study, 
but  the  rest  had  only  quite  a  little  room  where  there  was  no 
space  to  play,  so  that  they  were  thankful  when  the  evening 
was  over.  In  leaving  the  refectory  there  was  always  a 
certain  confusion,  and  it  was  easy  for  both  big  and  little 
demons  to  slip  away  down  the  ill-lighted  passages  to  the  dark 
side  of  the  cloisters. 

Here  Aurore,  with  Irish  Mary  for  her  guide,  found  a  number 
of  girls  assembled,  each  with  something  in  her  hand.  One 
held  a  stick,  another  a  pair  of  tongs,  a  third  a  poker.  What 
could  they  be  going  to  do  ?  '  Dupin  '  asked  herself.  Something 
exciting,  of  course  ;  but  she  never  guessed  that  it  would  be 
her  favourite  game  of  '  pretending.'  For  all  these  strange 
weapons  were  intended  for  the  deliverance  of  a  prisoner  who 
was  hidden  in  a  dungeon  somewhere  under  the  convent. 

Certainly  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  have  invented 
a  better  place  in  which  to  hide  any  number  of  prisoners  than 


AURORE  AT  PLAY  187 

the  immense  cellars  and  vaults  and  dark  holes  of  all  sorts, 
that  ran  underneath.  The  building  itself  was  more  like  a 
village  than  a  house,  and,  since  its  foundation,  had  been 
constantly  added  to  and  altered,  so  that  it  was  full  of  irregu- 
larities and  steps  up  and  down  and  roofs  at  different  heights, 
and  passages  which  once  led  to  something  but  were  now  blocked 
up.  On  one  side  of  the  garden,  whose  magnificent  chestnut 
trees  were  the  pride  of  the  nuns,  stood  small  houses  in 
which  lived  noble  ladies  retired  from  the  world,  but  free  from 
vows.  There  was  besides  a  very  large  vegetable  garden  for 
the  use  of  the  convent,  which  at  this  time  contained  about 
a  hundred  and  thirty  people.  It  was  possible,  if  you  stood  on 
tip-toe,  to  snatch  a  glimpse  through  the  grating  of  melons  or 
grapes  or  feathery  pinks,  but  the  door  was  not  easy  to  climb, 
and  only  two  or  three  of  the  bolder  girls  had  ever  managed  to 
penetrate  into  the  enclosure  and  taste  these  forbidden 
joys. 

The  legend  of  the  concealed  prisoner  had  been  handed  on 
from  generation  to  generation  of  school  girls,  as  weU  as  the 
terrors  which  were  half  a  joy,  that  thrilled  through  them  as 
they  crept  along  the  narrow  passages,  ending  no  one  knew 
where — perhaps  in  the  Catacombs,  perhaps  in  the  baths  of 
Julian,  perhaps  outside  Paris  itself  !  Who  could  tell  ?  Could 
life  have  any  feeling  more  exciting  in  store  than  the  sensation 
that  at  any  moment  your  feet  might  meet  the  empty  air,  and 
that  you  might  fall  into  one  of  those  terrible  pits  common 
in  castles  of  the  Middle  Ages,  known  by  the  evil  name  of 
oubliettes  or  holes  of  forgetfulness  ?  And  many  of  these 
dangers  were  not  at  all  imaginary,  whatever  the  '  prisoner  ' 
might  be. 

It  was  the  knowledge  of  the  heavy  punishments  that 
would  fall  on  their  heads  in  case  of  discovery  that  made  it 
a  point  of  honour  with  the  demons  to  risk  everything  in 
order  to  explore  this  underground  world.  Very  few,  however, 
gained  an  entrance  to  these  vaults  during  their  school 
lives,  and  only  then  after  years  of  patience  and  persever- 
ance. The  memory  of  these  heroines  was  kept  green,  and 


188  AVEORE  AT  PLAY 

their  names  whispered  reverently  '  to  encourage  the 
rest.' 

In  Aurore's  day  the  question  had  come  up  again — the 
burning  question  of  how  to  get  into  the  underground  world. 
Not  by  the  main  door  which  led  to  it,  that  was  clear  ;  for  close 
by  were  the  kitchens,  where  nuns  passed  continually  !  But 
if  the  main  door  was  barred,  there  must  be  a  hundred  other 
doors  or  walled- up  staircases,  by  which  you  could  get  there ; 
and  if  these  failed,  there  was  always  the  roof. 

Now,  the  very  last  thought  that  would  occur  to  most  people, 
if  they  want  to  penetrate  into  an  underground  passage,  is 
to  go  first  on  to  the  roof ;  but  then  they  are  not  school  girls, 
and  have  forgotten  all  about  these  things,  if,  indeed,  they 
ever  knew  them.  To  Aurore  and  her  friends  it  was  a  matter 
of  everyday  knowledge  that  '  the  longest  way  round  is  the 
shortest  way  home.'  Had  not  Aurore  sat  breathless  for  days 
together  over  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  Mysteries  of  Udolpho,  and  her 
companions  lain  awake  trembling  at  the  recollections  of 
Scotch  or  Irish  ancestral  ghosts  ? 

Why,  even  in  the  convent,  where  the  great  dormitories  were 
filled  with  girls  and  the  terrors  of  loneliness  were  unknown, 
did  they  not  shudder  sometimes  in  the  dark  in  the  certainty 
that  they  caught  the  echo  of  the  sighs,  the  groans,  the  clanking 
of  chains  of  the  victim  ? 

As  to  whether  it  was  always  the  same  victim  who  had  to 
be  rescued,  or  whether  in  every  generation  a  fresh  victim  was 
somehow  mysteriously  supplied,  nobody  inquired  and  nobody 
minded. 

On  the  never-to-be-forgotten  evening  of  Aurore's  initiation 
into  the  company  of  the  demons,  she  was  conducted  by  the 
rest  of  the  band  into  the  oldest  and  most  irregular  part  of  the 
convent.  At  length  they  found  themselves  standing  on  a 
gangway  with  a  wooden  railing,  ending  in  a  little  room,  from 
which  there  was  no  outlet.  By  the  light  of  their  single  taper 
they  beheld  a  staircase  below  them,  also  with  a  wooden 
railing,  and  protected  at  the  top  by  a  strong  oaken  door.  In 
order  to  get  on  to  the  staircase  it  was  necessary  to  drop  from 


AURORE  AT  PLAY  189 

one  balustrade  to  the  other — and  the  more  experienced  of  the 
explorers  strongly  suspected  that  both  of  them  were  worm- 
eaten — while  the  staircase  hung  over  black  depths  which  no 
eye  could  penetrate. 

It  was  an  adventure  which  required  a  good  deal  of  courage, 
but  not  one  of  the  girls  flinched.  Isabelle,  one  of  the  oldest 
of  the  demons,  claimed  her  right  to  go  first,  and  accom- 
plished her  dangerous  feat  with  the  resolution  of  a  heroine. 
Mary  followed  with  the  calm  of  a  gymnastic  professor,  the 
remainder  as  best  they  could,  but  somehow  or  other  they  all 
managed  to  arrive  safely  on  the  staircase.  At  the  foot  was 
another  little  hall  or  room,  without  door  or  window  or  issue 
of  any  kind ;  but  this,  for  some  strange  reason,  caused  the 
girls  more  joy  tha'n  regret. 

'  Certainly,'  they  said,  '  nobody  would  make  a  staircase 
which  went  nowhere  !  There  must  be  some  way  out  and  we 
have  got  to  find  it.' 

So  the  little  taper  was  divided  into  several  parts  and  each 
girl  began  a  careful  examination  of  the  walls,  pressing  the 
plaster,  which  they  hoped  might  conceal  a  ring  or  a  button 
that,  if  touched,  would  reveal  an  opening.  What  would  have 
happened  if  a  sudden  blast  had  blown  out  their  candles,  they 
never  thought,  for  they  had  no  means  of  lighting  them  again  ; 
and,  of  course,  none  of  the  Sisters  had  the  slightest  idea  where 
they  might  be.  Happily  this  did  not  occur,  and  though  the 
surface  of  the  walls  was  perfectly  smooth,  Isabelle  declared 
that  when  she  tapped  the  part  under  the  staircase  it  sounded 
hollow. 

This  discovery  threw  the  whole  party  into  a  state  of 
wild  excitement. 

'  We  have  found  it  at  last  !  '  they  cried ;  '  this  staircase 
leads  down  to  the  cell  where  living  victims  have  been  buried.' 
They  jostled  each  other  so  as  to  place  their  ears  against  the 
wall,  but  strange  to  say,  in  spite  of  their  fervent  wish,  they 
were  compelled  to  confess  that  they  heard  nothing.  All, 
that  is  except  Isabelle,  who  persisted  in  declaring  that  they 
must  every  one  of  them  be  deaf,  as  the  sounds  of  groans  and 
clanking  chains  were  quite  plain. 


190  AURORE  AT  PLAY 

'  Then  we  must  break  down  the  wall,'  said  Mary,  '  and  the 
sooner  we  begin  the  better.' 

In  an  instant  the  wall  was  attacked  by  the  collection  of 
arms  the  girls  had  brought  with  them.  Tongs,  pokers,  shovels 
were  ah1  brought  into  play,  but  luckily  without  making  any 
impression  on  the  stones,  which  otherwise  might  have  come 
rattling  about  their  heads.  Besides,  the  demons  dared  not 
make  too  much  noise,  for  they  were  afraid  of  being  heard,  as 
they  did  not  know  exactly  in  which  part  of  the  convent  they 
might  happen  to  be. 

Only  a  few  pieces  of  plaster  had  fallen  when  the  warning 
bell  for  prayers  clanged  through  the  building.  How  they 
contrived  the  upward  climb  from  one  balustrade  to  another, 
they  never  knew,  and  that  they  were  able  to  do  it  at  all  was 
almost  a  miracle.  Down  they  dashed  along  the  passages, 
brushing  the  plaster  from  their  dresses  as  they  ran,  and  arrived 
breathless  as  the  two  classes  were  forming  to  enter  the 
chapel. 

During  the  whole  winter  they  worked  at  the  wall,  but, 
persevering  though  they  were,  the  obstacles  encountered 
were  so  many  that  at  length  they  decided  it  was  sheer  folly 
to  waste  more  time  on  it,  and  they  had  better  try  to  force  an 
entrance  by  some  other  way. 

There  was  a  little  room — one  of  many  under  the  roof — 
which  contained  one  of  the  thirty  pianos  of  the  convent,  and 
there  Aurore  was  accustomed  to  practise  for  an  hour  daily. 
From  its  window  could  be  seen  a  whole  world  of  roofs,  pent- 
houses, sheds,  and  buildings  of  all  sorts,  covered  with  mossy 
tiles,  and  most  tempting  to  the  adventurous.  It  seemed 
quite  reasonable  that  somewhere  amongst  the  buildings  should 
exist  a  staircase  leading  to  the  underground  passages,  and 
one  fine,  starlight  night  the  demons  met  in  the  little  music- 
room,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they  had  all  scrambled  from  the 
window  on  to  the  roof  six  feet  below  them.  From  there  they 
climbed  over  gables,  jumped  from  one  incline  to  another,  and 
behaved  in  fact  as  if  they  were  cats,  taking  care  to  hide 
behind  a  chimney  or  crouch  in  a  gutter  whenever  they 


AURORE  AT  PLAY  1<)1 

caught  sight  of  a  nun  in  the  garden  or  courtyard  beneath 
them. 

They  had  managed  to  get  a  long  way  downwards  when 
prayer- time  drew  near,  and  they  knew  they  must  begin  their 
return  journey.  As  the  Latin  proverb  tells  you,  it  is  easy 
enough  to  go  down,  but  what  about  getting  back  again  ? 
And  to  make  matters  worse,  the  demons  had  not  the  slightest 
idea  where  they  were.  Still,  they  contrived  to  retrace  some 
of  their  footsteps  and  at  last  recognised  to  their  joy  the 
window  of  Sidonie  Macdonald,  daughter  of  the  general.  But 
to  reach  this  window  it  was  necessary  to  spring  upwards 
a  considerable  distance,  and  the  chances  of  hitting  exactly 
the  right  spot  were  very  few.  Aurore,  at  any  rate,  almost 
lost  her  life  in  the  attempt.  She  jumped  in  too  great  a  hurry, 
and  very  nearly  fell  thirty  feet  through  a  skylight  into  a 
gallery  where  the  little  class  were  playing.  As  it  was,  her  heel 
struck  against  the  glass,  and  several  panes  went  crashing 
in  their  midst.  Clinging  to  the  window-sill,  with  her  knees 
scratched  and  bleeding,  Aurore  heard  the  voice  of  Sister 
Therese  below  accusing  Whisky,  Mother  Alippe's  big  black  cat, 
of  fighting  with  his  neighbours  on  the  roof  and  breaking  all 
the  windows  in  the  convent.  Mother  Alippe  warmly  denied 
that  her  cat  ever  quarrelled  with  anyone,  and  in  spite  of 
her  wounds  and  her  danger,  Aurore  burst  into  fits  of  laughter 
at  the  hot  dispute,  in  which  she  was  joined  by  Fanelly 
stretched  in  the  gutter,  and  Mary  lying  in  a  '  spread-eagle  ' 
on  the  tiles,  feeling  about  for  her  comb.  They  heard  the  nuns 
mounting  the  stairs,  and  discovery  seemed  inevitable. 

Nothing  of  the  sort,  however,  occurred.  The  overhanging 
gables  preserved  them  from  being  seen,  and  as  soon  as  they 
felt  they  were  safe,  the  young  demons  began  to  mew  loudly, 
so  that  Sister  Therese  proved  triumphantly  that  she  was 
right,  and  that  the  mischief  had  been  caused  by  Whisky  and 
his  friends  ! 

This  being  happily  settled,  the  girls  climbed  at  their 
leisure  into  the  window  where  Sidonie  was  quietly  practising 
her  scales,  undisturbed  by  the  noise  in  the  cat-world.  She 


192  AURORE  AT  PLAY 

was  a  gentle,  nervous  child,  who  had  no  sympathy  with  a 
passion  for  roofs,  and  when  a  procession  of  demons  entered 
her  room  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  screamed  loudly. 
But  before  the  nuns  could  hurry  to  the  spot,  the  girls  had 
dispersed  in  all  directions,  and,  up  to  the  end,  the  blame  of 
the  broken  window  was  laid  upon  Whisky. 


HOW  AURORE  LEARNT  TO  RIDE 

WHEN  Aurore  was  old  enough  to  leave  the  convent  she  went 
back  to  Nohant  to  live  with  her  grandmother,  who  was  failing 
fast  and  died  the  following  year.  Aurore  was  sixteen  now, 
and  things  looked  very  different  from  what  they  did  three 
years  earlier.  The  trees  were  not  so  tall  nor  the  garden  so  big 
as  she  remembered  them  ;  that  was  disappointing,  no  doubt. 
But  on  the  other  hand,  what  joy  to  do  your  hair  as  you  liked 
without  being  told  that  no  nice  girl  ever  let  her  temples  be 
seen  ;  to  wear  a  pink  cotton  frock  instead  of  one  of  yellow 
serge,  and  to  have  as  many  cakes  and  sweet  things  as  you 
wanted  !  Of  course  it  had  been  terrible  to  part  from  your 
friends  at  the  convent,  but  then  at  Nohant  there  were  all 
those  of  long  ago — and  the  dogs  almost  better  than  any  friend  ! 
Then,  too,  it  was  delightful  to  be  so  changed  that  even  M.  Des- 
chartres  did  not  know  you,  and  to  be  called  '  Mademoiselle  ' 
by  him  and  everyone  else.  At  least  it  was  delightful  just 
at  first,  but  soon  it  began  to  be  tiresome  to  find  the  girls 
with  whom  you  had  climbed  trees  and  played  blind  man's 
buff  treating  you  very  much  as  they  treated  your  grand- 
mother. No  ;  decidedly  there  were  some  drawbacks  to  being 
'  grown  up  '  ! 

For  a  few  days  Aurore  ran  about  the  country  nearly  as 
much  as  she  had  done  in  former  years,  but  after  a  while  she 
made  plans  for  study,  and  drew  up  a  time-table.  History, 
drawing,  music,  English  and  Italian,  had  each  its  hour  ;  but 
somehow  when  that  hour  struck  there  was  always  something 
else  to  be  done,  and  Aurore's  books  were  still  unopened  when, 
at  the  end  of  a  month,  Madame  de  Pontcarr6  and  Pauline 
arrived  on  a  visit. 

193  o 


194  HOW  AURORE  LEARNT  TO  RIDE 

Pauline  was  just  the  same  as  she  had  always  been  ; 
'  growing  up  '  had  worked  no  transformation  in  her.  She 
was  pretty,  pleasant,  gentle  as  ever,  and  quite  as  indifferent 
to  everybody.  Indeed,  she  was  still  exactly  the  opposite 
of  her  mother,  who  had  played  with  Aurore's  father  when  she 
was  a  child,  and  in  consequence  was  a  great  favourite  with 
Madame  Dupin.  And  now  that  Madame  de  Pontcarre  was 
there,  there  was  no  more  dreaming  for  Aurore.  Instead,  they 
all  three  took  walks  twice  a  day  and  studied  music  together. 
When  they  came  in  the  evenings,  they  would  sing  airs  from 
Gluck's  beautiful  old  operas  '  Armida  '  and  '  Iphigenia  '  to 
Madame  Dupin,  w,hose  criticisms  and  judgment  were  as  good  as 
of  old.  They  even  acted  a  play  or,  rather,  a  proverb  to  amuse 
the  old  lady,  who  was  nevertheless  a  little  shocked  to  see  her 
granddaughter  dressed  as  a  boy.  After  that  the  Pontcarres 
went  away,  and  perhaps  it  was  as  well,  for  Madame  Dupin  was 
getting  jealous  of  Aurore  being  so  much  with  them. 

Aurore  would  have  been  very  dull  without  her  friends 
had  not  Hippolyte,  now  a  hussar,  come  back  to  spend  his 
leave  at  Nohant.  He  was  such  a  splendid  person,  rolling  his 
r's,  making  fun  of  everybody,  riding  horses  which  no  one  else 
would  go  near,  that  at  first  Aurore  was  quite  afraid  of  him. 
But  this  soon  wore  off,  and  they  were  speedily  on  the  old 
footing,  taking  long  walks  across  country,  and  going  off  into 
fits  of  laughter  at  the  silliest  jokes. 

'  Now  I  am  going  to  teach  you  to  ride,'  he  said  one  day. 
'  Of  course,  I  might  give  you  the  book  of  instructions  that  I 
am  obliged  to  read  to  the  poor  young  soldiers  in  the  barracks, 
who  don't  understand  a  word ;  but  it  all  comes  to  this — you 
either  fall  off  or  you  don't.  And  as  one  must  be  prepared  for 
a  fall,  we  will  pick  out  a  place  for  your  lesson  where  you  can't 
hurt  yourself  much.'  So  saying  he  led  the  way  to  a  field  of 
soft  grass,  mounted  on  General  Pepe,  and  holding  Colette  by 
the  bridle. 

Pepe  was  a  grandson  of  the  horse  which  had  killed  Maurice 
Dupin,  and  Colette  (who  was  occasionally  known  as  Made- 
moiselle Deschartres)  had  been  trained — or  supposed  to  be — 


HOW  AURORE  LEARNT  TO  RIDE  195 

by  the  tutor  ;  she  had  only  lately  been  brought  into  the  stable, 
and  had  never  yet  felt  a  human  being  on  her  back.  Of  course 
it  was  nothing  short  of  madness  on  the  part  of  Hippolyte 
to  dream  of  mounting  his  sister  upon  her,  but  the  mare  seemed 
very  gentle,  and  after  taking  her  two  or  three  times  round  the 
field  he  declared  she  was  all  right,  and  swung  Aurore  into  the 
saddle.  Then,  without  giving  either  mare  or  rider  time  to 
think  what  was  happening,  he  struck  Colette  a  smart  cut  with 
his  whip,  and  off  she  started  on  a  wild  gallop,  shying  and 
leaping  and  bounding  out  of  pure  gaiety  of  heart. 

'  Sit  up  straight,'  shouted  Hippolyte.  '  Hold  on  to  her 
mane  if  you  like,  but  don't  drop  the  bridle,  and  stick  on.  To 
fall  or  not  to  fall — that  is  the  whole  thing.' 

Aurore  heard  and  obeyed  with  all  her  might.  Five  or 
six  times  she  wa*s  jerked  upwards  out  of  the  saddle,  but 
she  always  returned  to  it  again,  and  at  the  end  of  an  hour — 
breathless,  untidy,  and  intoxicated  with  delight — she  guided 
Colette  to  the  stable,  feeling  that  she  was  capable  of  managing 
all  the  horses  of  the  French  Army.  As  to  Colette,  who  was  as 
new  to  the  business  as  her  mistress,  she  also  had  experienced 
a  fresh  joy,  and  from  that  day  till  her  death  she  was  Aurore's 
faithful  companion. 

'  Lean,  big  and  ugly  when  standing,'  writes  Aurore, 
'  when  moving  she  became  beautiful  by  force  of  grace  and 
suppleness.  I  have  ridden  many  splendid  horses  admirably 
trained,  but  for  cleverness  and  intelligence  I  have  never 
found  the  equal  of  Colette.  I  have  had  falls,  of  course, 
but  they  were  always  the  result  of  my  own  carelessness,  for 
she  never  shied  nor  made  a  false  step.  She  would  suffer 
nobody  else  to  mount  her,  but  from  the  first  moment  she  and 
I  understood  each  other  absolutely.  At  the  end  of  a  week 
we  jumped  hedges  and  ditches  and  swam  rivers,  for  I  was 
suddenly  transformed  into  something  bolder  than  a  hussar, 
and  more  robust  than  a  peasant.' 

Curiously  enough,  Madame  Dupin,  so  little  given  to  exercise 
herself,  was  not  in  the  least  nervous  as  to  Aurore's  adventures, 
while  Madame  Maurice  never  beheld  her  on  a  horse's  back  with- 
out hiding  her  face  in  her  hands  and  declaring  she  would  die 


196  HOW  AURORE  LEARNT  TO  RIDE 

like  her  father.  One  day  Aurore  heard  some  visitors  inquiring 
why  Madame  Dupin  allowed  her  granddaughter  to  do  such 
wild  things,  and  the  old  lady  in  reply  quoted  with  rather  a 
sad  smile  the  well-known  story  of  the  sailor  and  the  citizen. 

'  What,  sir  !  Do  you  tell  me  that  your  father  and  your 
grandfather  both  died  at  sea,  and  yet  you  are  a  sailor  ? 
In  your  place,  I  would  never  have  set  foot  in  a  boat !  ' 

'  And  your  parents,  sir  ?   How  did  they  die  ?  ' 

'  In  their  beds,  I  am  thankful  to  say  !  ' 

'  Then,  in  your  place,  I  would  never  set  foot  in  a  bed.' 

After  Hippolyte's  leave  was  over,  and  he  had  rejoined  his 
regiment,  Aurore  was  obliged  to  ride  with  M.  Deschartres, 
which  was  not  nearly  so  amusing  ;  still,  it  was  a  great  deal 
better  than  not  riding  at  all.  And  as  the  nfonths  went  on,  the 
poor  girl  grew  more  and  more  dependent  on  the  hours  that 
she  and  Colette  spent  together,  for  it  was  quite  plain  that 
Madame  Dupin's  life  was  fast  drawing  to  a  close.  She  lost  her 
memory,  and  though  she  was  never  really  awake,  she  was 
never  really  asleep  either.  Her  maid  Julie,  Aurore,  or  M.  Des- 
chartres were  with  her  always,  and  as  Aurore  did  not  find 
the  four  hours  of  sleep  which  fell  to  her  share  enough  to  carry 
her  through  the  day,  she  tried  the  plan  of  going  to  bed  every 
other  night  only,  and  watching  her  grandmother  on  alternate 
ones.  Very  soon  she  got  used  to  this  mode  of  life,  although 
sometimes  even  the  nights  spent  in  bed  were  broken.  Her 
grandmother  would  insist  on  Aurore  coming  to  assure  her  that 
it  was  really  two  o'clock,  as  Julie  had  told  her,  for  she  did  not 
believe  it ;  or  whether  the  cat  was  in  the  room,  as  she  was 
sure  she  heard  it.  The  girl's  presence  always  soothed  her,  and 
the  old  lady  would  murmur  a  few  tender  words  and  send  her 
back  to  bed.  If  this  only  happened  once  in  the  night  it  did 
not  so  much  matter ;  but  when  Madame  Dupin  had  a  restless 
fit,  Aurore  would  be  summoned  two  or  three  times  over.  Then 
she  gave  up  the  idea  of  sleep,  and  passed  the  night  with  a 
book  by  the  side  of  her  grandmother. 

It  was  a  sad  and  lonely  existence  for  a  girl  not  seventeen, 
and  Aurore  soon  fell  into  melancholy  ways,  and  had  strange 


HOW  AURORE  LEARNT  TO  RIDE  197 

fancies.  The  companions  she  might  have  sought  seemed  years 
younger  than  herself  at  this  time,  and  she  was  out  of  tune  for 
their  gaiety.  In  these  days  she  had  grown  to  have  more 
sympathy  with  Deschartres  than  she  could  have  believed 
possible,  and  she  was  very  grateful  for  his  devotion  to  her 
grandmother.  So  it  came  to  pass  that  when  one  of  the  other 
maids  could  be  spared  to  help  Julie,  Aurore  and  her  old  tutor 
might  be  met  riding  on  the  commons  or  fields  that  surrounded 
Nohant. 

They  were  returning  one  afternoon  after  paying  a  visit 
to  a  sick  man  and  took  a  road  which  ran  along  the  banks  of 
the  river  Indre.  Suddenly  Deschartres  stopped. 

'  We  must  cross  here,'  he  said.  '  But  be  careful.  The  ford 
is  very  dangerous,  for  if  you  go  the  least  bit  too  much  to 
the  right,  you  will  find  yourself  in  twenty  feet  of  water.  I 
will  go  first,  and  you  must  follow  me  exactly.' 

'  I  think  I  would  rather  not  try  it,'  answered  Aurore,  seized 
with  a  fit  of  nervousness.  '  You  cross  by  yourself,  and  I 
will  take  the  bridge  below  the  mill.' 

This  was  so  unlike  the  Aurore  he  knew  that  Deschartres 
turned  in  his  saddle  and  stared  at  her  in  surprise. 

'  Why,  when  did  you  begin  to  be  a  coward  !  '  asked  he. 
'  We  have  been  over  worse  places  twenty  times,  and  you 
never  dreamed  of  being  frightened  !  Come  along  !  If  we  are 
not  home  by  five  we  shall  keep  your  grandmother  waiting 
for  her  dinner.' 

Feeling  much  ashamed  of  herself,  Aurore  said  no  more  and 
guided  Colette  into  the  water.  But  in  the  very  middle  of  the 
ford  a  sudden  giddiness  attacked  her  :  her  eyes  grew  dim,  and 
there  was  a  rushing  sound  in  her  ears.  Pulling  the  right 
rein  she  turned  Colette  into  the  deep  water,  against  which 
Deschartres  had  warned  her. 

If  Colette  had  plunged  or  struggled,  nothing  could  have 
saved  either  of  them,  but  happily  she  was  a  beast  who  took 
things  quietly,  and  at  once  began  to  swim  towards  the  opposite 
bank.  Deschartres,  seeing  the  girl's  danger,  screamed  loudly, 
and  his  agitation  brought  back  Aurore's  presence  of  mind. 

'  Stay  where  you  are  !    I  am  all  right,'  she  cried,  as  he 


198  HOW  AURORE  LEARNT  TO  RIDE 

was  about  to  put  his  horse  into  the  river  for  her  rescue, 
which  was  the  more  courageous  of  him,  as  he  was  a  bad  rider 
and  his  steed  was  ill-trained.  He  would  certainly  be  drowned, 
she  knew,  and  in  spite  of  her  words  she  was  not  very  certain 
that  she  would  not  be  drowned  also,  as  it  is  not  easy  to  sit 
on  a  swimming  horse.  The  rider  is  uplifted  by  the  water,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  animal  is  pressed  down  by  his  weight. 
Luckily  Aurore  was  very  light,  and  Colette  was  both  brave 
and  strong,  and  everything  went  well  till  they  reached  the 
opposite  bank,  which  was  very  steep.  Here  Deschartres  in  an 
agony  of  terror,  was  awaiting  her. 

'  Catch  hold  of  that  branch  of  willow  and  draw  yourself 
up,'  he  cried,  and  she  managed  to  do  as  he  told  her.  But 
when  she  saw  the  frantic  efforts  of  Colette  to  obtain  a  footing, 
she  forgot  all  about  her  own  danger  and  thought  only  of  her 
friend's.  She  was  about  to  drop  back  again  into  the  water, 
which  would  not  have  helped  Colette  and  would  have  caused 
her  own  death,  when  Deschartres  seized  her  arm ;  and  at 
the  same  moment  Colette  remembered  the  ford  and  swam 
back  to  it. 

Once  they  were  all  safe  on  land  again,  Deschartres'  fright 
showed  itself  in  the  abuse  which  he  heaped  upon  his  pupil, 
but  Aurore  understood  the  reason  of  his  anger,  and  threw  her 
arms  round  his  neck  and  kissed  him. 

When  her  grandmother  died,  as  she  did  during  that  year, 
and  Aurore  went  to  live  with  some  relations,  Colette  went 
with  her.  They  remained  together  till  Colette  died  of  old  age, 
friends  to  the  last. 


Al'EOEE   RESCUED    BT   DESCHA.RTRE3   FROM  A   \?ATERY   GRA.VB. 


LAND-OTTER  THE  INDIAN 

Ox  the  North- West  part  of  America,  and  especially  near  the 
sea,  a  great  many  tribes  of  Indians  are  still  living,  each  with 
its  peculiar  customs  and  interesting  stories  handed  down  from 
one  generation  to  another.  The  story  which  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  now  is  a  tale  of  the  Tlingit  tribe  and  is  about  '  Land- 
otter,'  as  the  Indians  called  him,  whose  parents  lived  on  the 
coast  of  Alaska. 

That  year  the  crop  of  maize  had  failed  all  through  the 
country,  and  the  people  took  their  boats  and  went  out  to 
catch  halibut,  so  that  they  might  not  die  of  starvation. 
Among  them  was  a  certain  man  and  his  wife  who  made  a 
little  house  for  themselves  just  out  of  reach  of  the  high  tides, 
and  fished  harder  than  any  of  the  rest ;  but  the  halibut  seemed 
as  scarce  as  the  maize,  and  the  one  or  two  fish  that  they  caught 
in  a  week  hardly  kept  them  alive.  Then  the  wife  used  to  go  to 
the  beach  at  low  water  and  look  for  crabs  or  shrimps  among 
the  pools  in  the  rocks,  but  even  so  they  grew  thinner  and 
thinner. 

One  night  the  husband  came  home  with  only  one  small 
halibut  in  his  big  fishing-basket.  They  were  both  very 
hungry  and  could  have  eaten  ten  times  as  many,  but  there 
was  no  good  thinking  of  that,  and  the  woman  put  part  of  the 
halibut  in  the  pot  which  stood  on  the  fire,  and  hung  the  rest 
of  it  outside  in  a  shed. 

'At  least,  there  shall  be  something  for  breakfast  to-morrow,' 
said  she. 

But  when  to-morrow  came  a  strange  noise  was  heard  in 
the  shed  where  the  fish  was  lying,  as  if  someone  was  throwing 
things  about. 

201 


202  LAND-OTTER  THE  INDIAN 

'  What  is  that  ?  '  asked  the  wife.  '  Go  and  see  who  has  got 
into  the  shed.'  So  the  man  went,  and  beheld,  to  his  surprise, 
two  large  devil-fish  on  the  floor. 

'  How  did  they  come  up  from  the  beach  ?  '  thought  he. 
'  But  however  they  managed  it,  they  will  be  very  useful,'  and 
he  hurried  back  to  his  wife  and  said  to  her : 

'  We  are  in  luck  !  There  are  two  devil-fish  in  the  shed ; 
Whoever  brought  them,  it  was  very  kind  of  him,  and  now  we 
have  such  good  bait  we  will  go  out  in  the  morning  and  catch 
some  halibut.'  His  face  as  he  spoke  was  filled  with  joy,  but 
the  woman's  grew  pale  and  she  sat  down  rather  quickly. 

'  Do  you  know  who  brought  them  here  ?  '  she  said  at 
last  ?  '  It  was  our  son ;  it  is  a  year  to-day  since  he  was 
drowned,  and  he  knows  how  poor  we  are,  so  he  has  taken 
pity  on  us.  I  will  listen  at  night,  and  if  I  hear  anyone  whistle 
I  will  call  him  ;  for  I  know  it  is  he.' 

At  dawn  they  got  up  and  baited  their  lines  with  the 
devil-fish,  and  this  time  they  caught  two  halibut.  As  soon 
as  it  grew  dark  and  they  could  see  no  longer,  they  rowed  back 
and  pulled  up  their  boat,  and  the  woman  went  inside  and 
threw  one  of  the  halibut  into  the  pot.  At  that  moment 
she  heard  a  whistle  behind  the  house,  and  her  heart  beat 
wildly. 

'  Come  in,  my  son,'  she  said.  '  We  have  longed  for  you  these 
many  months.  Fear  nothing ;  no  one  is  here  except  your 
father  and  I.'  But  nobody  entered ;  only  the  whistle  was 
repeated.  Then  the  man  rose  and  flung  open  the  door  and 
cried  : 

'  Come  in,  come  in,  my  son  !  You  have  guessed  how7  poor  we 
are  and  have  sought  to  help  us,'  and  though  neither  the  man 
nor  his  wife  saw  the  son  enter,  they  felt  he  was  somehow 
sitting  opposite  at  the  fire,  with  his  hands  over  his  face. 

'  Is  it  you,  my  son  ?  '  they  both  asked  at  once,  for  they 
could  not  see.  Again  he  whistled  in  answer,  and  the  three 
sat  in  silence  till  midnight  when  the  young  man  made  some 
sounds  as  if  he  would  speak. 

'  Is  that  you,  my  son  ?  '  asked  the  father  again,  and  the 
son  replied : 


THE  DEAD  SON  HELPS  HIS  PARENTS 


LAND-OTTER  THE  INDIAN  205 

'  Yes,'  and  made  a  sign,  pointing  outside  the  door,  where 
more  devil-fish  were  lying. 

'  In  the  morning  we  will  go  out,'  he  said  in  a  strange  voice, 
as  if  speaking  was  difficult  to  him,  and  his  mother  gave  him  a 
pillow  and  some  blankets  and  he  slept  by  the  fire. 

It  was  still  dark  when  he  took  his  father  by  the  feet  and 
shook  him,  saying  '  Get  up,  it  is  time  to  fish,'  so  they  fetched 
the  line  and  dragged  the  canoe  to  the  water's  edge.  When  they 
were  seated  the  son  took  a  paddle,  and  he  pulled  so  hard 
that  they  had  reached  the  feeding  grounds  of  the  halibut  in  only 
a  few  minutes.  After  that  he  baited  the  hooks  and  fastened 
the  end  of  the  line  to  the  seat. 

'  Put  the  blanket  over  you,'  he  said,  turning  to  his  father, 
'  and  be  careful  not  to  watch  me.'  But  the  father  did  watch 
him  through  a  hole  in  the  blanket,  and  this  is  what  he  saw. 

The  son  got  up  very  gently  so  that  the  boat  should  not 
move,  and,  plunging^into  the  sea,  put  the  largest  halibut  he 
could  find  on  the  hooks.  When  no  more  were  to  be  had,  he 
returned  into  the  canoe  and  shook  it ;  his  father  perceiving 
this,  stretched  out  his  arms  drowsily  and  inquired  if  they  had 
had  any  luck. 

'  Pull  in  the  lines  and  see,'  answered  the  son,  and  as  they 
pulled,  one  big  halibut  after  another  met  their  eyes.  The 
canoe  was  soon  full,  and  they  paddled  home  again. 

On  the  way  back  the  young  man  who  was  standing  at 
the  bow  with  a  spear  in  his  hand  threw  it  at  a  seal,  which 
he  dragged  on  board  the  boat,  and  killed  it  with  a  blow  from 
his  fist.  But  as  soon  as  they  touched  the  shore  he  looked 
at  the  sky  and  exclaimed  that  if  he  did  not  make  haste  the 
raven  might  cry  before  he  could  reach  a  shelter,  and  ran  off  up 
to  the  woods. 

It  took  the  father  and  mother  all  day  to  take  out  the  hali- 
but and  cut  them  in  pieces  and  salt  them,  so  that  they  should 
always  have  something  to  eat.  Darkness  came  on  before 
they  had  finished,  and  in  the  evening  their  son  was  with 
them  again.  Then  the  father  took  some  of  the  raw  halibut 


206  LAND-OTTER  THE  INDIAN 

and  set  it  before  him,  first  cutting  it  into  small  mouthfuls. 
He  knew  that  drowned  men  did  not  like  cooked  food,  and 
also  that  they  did  not  like  being  watched.  So  he  signed  to 
his  wife  to  say  nothing  when  the  son  turned  his  back,  and 
began  to  eat  very  fast,  for  he  was  hungry. 

In  this  manner  things  went  on  for  a  whole  week,  and  then 
his  parents  begged  him  not  to  go  back  to  the  woods  to  sleep, 
but  to  stay  with  them,  which  he  did  gladly.  And  every  day 
before  it  was  light,  he  woke  his  father  and  they  went  off  to 
fish  together,  and  each  time  the  canoe  came  back  full,  so  that 
at  length  they  had  great  stores  of  food  laid  up  in  the  outhouse. 

At  first,  as  we  know,  he  was  only  a  voice  ;  then  he  would  not 
let  them  see  his  face,  but  little  by  little  his  body  grew  plain 
to  them  and  his  features  distinct,  and  they  noticed  that  his 
hair  had  grown  long  and  reached  his  waist.  At  first,  too, 
he  could  only  whistle,  but  now  he  could  talk  freely,  and  always 
was  ready  to  help  either  his  father  or  his  mother,  and  she  used 
to  go  with  them  in  the  boat  whenever  she  had  time,  for  she 
loved  the  fishing.  Very  soon,  no  longer  fearing  starvation, 
they  packed  up  their  store  of  food  and  placed  it  in  the  canoe 
and  pushed  off,  for  they  were  going  back  to  Silka  where  they 
lived  with  their  tribe.  And  as  they  drew  near  the  landing- 
place,  the  woman  beheld  the  shadow  of  her  son's  hands 
paddling,  and  wondered  to  herself,  for  his  hands  she  could  not 
see. 

'  What  is  the  matter  with  my  son  ?  '  she  asked  her  hus- 
band at  last.  '  I  can  only  see  his  shadow,'  and  she  rose  to 
find  out  if  he  was  asleep  or  had  fallen  into  the  water.  But 
he  was  not  in  the  boat,  neither  was  there  any  trace  of  him. 
Only  the  blanket,  which  had  been  across  his  knees,  remained 
in  the  bottom. 

So  they  rowed  on  to  Silka. 

[From  Tlingit  Myths  and  Texts,  recorded  by  JOHN  R. 
SWANTON,  Smithsonian  Institution,  Bureau  of  American 
Ethnology.  Bulletin  39.] 


THE  DISINHERITING  OF  A  SON 

NEAR  a  large  town  in  England  there  lived  in  the  last  century 
a  gentleman  with  his  son  and  daughter.  His  wife  died  when 
her  children  were  quite  young,  leaving  a  large  fortune  behind 
her,  and  in  a  few  years  her  husband  married  again.  Now, 
though  the  new  lady  of  the  manor  had  seemed  gentle  and 
amiable  as  long  as  she  was  a  girl,  she  soon  grew  jealous  of  her 
stepson  and  his  sister,  and  treated  them  very  harshly  and 
unkindly.  She  thought  that  anything  was  good  enough  for 
them,  but  that  the  moment  she  wished  for  anything  she  was 
to  have  it — quite  forgetting  that  the  money  which  bought 
her  horses  and  diamonds  belonged  of  right  to  the  children. 
When  she  began  to  have  babies  of  her  own,  matters  grew  worse, 
and  as  soon  as  her  husband's  eldest  son  declared  that  he 
wished  to  leave  England  and  pass  some  years  in  foreign 
countries,  the  stepmother  broke  into  a  furious  rage,  and 
declared  that  he  must  stop  at  home,  for  there  was  no  money 
to  waste  on  him. 

The  young  man  saw  that  no  help  was  to  be  expected  from 
his  father,  who  was  always  afraid  of  his  wife's  temper,  so  he 
said  no  more,  but  wrote  at  once  to  his  own  mother's  brother 
to  beg  his  assistance.  This  was  at  once  given,  and  thus  it 
came  about  that  very  soon  Alexander  started  off  to  see  the 
world. 

In  the  beginning,  the  allowance  which  his  father  had 
agreed  to  make  him  was  paid  regularly,  and  as  regularly  the 
son  wrote  home  to  tell  where  he  was  and  what  he  was  doing. 
Then  gradually  the  payments  were  delayed,  for  the  step- 
mother had  always  some  good  reason  why  the  money  could 
not  be  forthcoming  at  that  particular  date,  and  at  length  they 
207 


208  THE  DISINHERITING  OF  A  SON 

ceased  altogether.  And  when  the  payments  ceased,  the 
letters  ceased  also. 

For  four  years  things  remained  in  this  state,  but  the  step- 
mother was  not  idle.  She  intended  in  one  way  or  another 
to  work  upon  her  husband  till  she  had  forced  him  to  do  as  she 
wished,  and  this  was  to  leave  the  estate  to  her  own  son,  '  as 
it  was  quite  certain,'  she  went  on,  '  that  Alexander  must 
be  dead,  or  by  this  time  they  would  have  heard  something 
about  him.' 

At  first  her  husband  would  not  listen  to  her,  and  many  and 
frequent  were  their  quarrels  ;  but,  as  we  know,  '  the  dropping 
of  water  wears  away  a  stone,'  and  in  the  end  he  showed 
signs  of  giving  way.  His  wife  noticed  it,  and  redoubled  her 
efforts.  '  If  Alexander  were  alive,'  she  declared,  '  it  was 
unpardonable  of  him  to  have  treated  his  father  in  such  a 
manner,  and  that  fact  alone  would  make  him  worthy  of  disin- 
heritance ;  and  if  he  were  dead,  then,  of  course,  her  boy  was 
the  proper  heir  to  the  estate.' 

Still,  in  spite  of  all  her  arguments,  she  could  not  entirely 
bend  her  husband  to  her  will ;  and  the  utmost  she  could 
get  from  him  was  a  promise  that  if  he  did  not  hear  from  his 
son  in  four  years  he  would  agree  to  her  plan. 

For  the  moment  the  wife  felt  that  no  more  could  be  gained, 
but  soon  she  began  her  grumblings  afresh,  and  worried  him 
so  perpetually  that  at  last  he  consented  to  reduce  the  time  of 
waiting  from  four  years  to  one.  This  was  not  done  very 
easily,  and  many  angry  words  passed  between  them,  till  one 
day  the  wife  burst  out  in  a  passion  that  she  hoped  his  son's 
ghost  would  appear  to  him  and  tell  his  father  that  he  was 
dead,  and  that  justice  ought  to  be  done  to  his  other 
children. 

'  And  I,'  cried  the  father,  '  only  wish  his  ghost  would 
appear  before  the  year  is  up,  and  tell  us  that  he  is  alive.' 

It  happened  not  long  after  that  they  were  sitting  one 
summer  evening  in  the  parlour,  disputing  over  the  same 
subject — for  nowadays  they  never  talked  about  anything 
else — when  suddenly  the  wife  became  silent  and  started  up. 


THE  DISINHERITING  OF  A  SON  209 

'  Did  you  see  that  hand  at  the  window  ?  '  she  cried. 
'  There  must  be  thieves  in  the  garden ! ' 

'  Thieves  !  '  he  exclaimed,  and  rushed  to  the  door,  but 
he  quickly  returned,  saying  : 

'  You  have  made  a  mistake ;  there  is  nobody  in  the 
garden.' 

'  But  there  must  be,'  she  answered. 

'  It  was  a  ghost,  then,'  he  replied,  '  for  no  one  could  have 
got  over  the  walls  without  my  seeing  him.' 

'  I  am  certain,'  persisted  the  wife,  '  that  I  saw  a  man  put 
up  his  hand  to  the  window,  and  if  it  was  a  ghost,  it  was  the 
ghost  of  your  son,  who  came  to  tell  you  that  he  is  dead.' 

'  If  it  was  my  son,'  said  the  husband,  '  he  is  come  to  tell 
us  he  is  alive,  I  warrant  you,  and  to  ask  ho\v  you  can  be  so 
wicked  as  to  wish  to  disinherit  him.  Alexander  !  Alexander  !  ' 
he  cried,  looking  .towards  the  window.  '  If  you  are  alive, 
show  yourself,  and  don't  let  me  be  vexed  daily  with  tales 
of  your  death.' 

As  he  spoke,  the  window  flew  open,  and  Alexander  looked 
in.  He  stared  angrily  at  his  stepmother,  who  shrieked  and 
fainted  ;  and  uttering  the  word  '  Here  '  in  a  clear  voice,  the 
young  man  vanished. 

Immediately  her  husband  rushed  outside  and  tried  the 
doors  leading  from  the  garden  into  the  stables  and  some  fields, 
but  found  them  all  barred.  Then  he  inquired  of  some  men 
if  anyone  had  passed,  but  they  had  seen  no  one. 

After  that  he  returned  to  the  parlour,  and  seated  himself 
in  his  chair,  waiting  till  his  wife  had  recovered  herself. 

'  What  was  it  ?  '  she  asked  as  soon  as  she  could  speak. 

'  Alexander,  without  a  doubt,'  answered  he,  and  she  fainted 
a  second  time,  and  was  in  bed  for  several  days  afterwards. 

The  husband  hoped  that  the  fright  his  wife  had  undergone 
would  have  put  an  end  to  her  schemes,  but  as  time  went  on 
she  forgot  her  scare,  and  began  to  tease  as  of  old.  This  so 
enraged  the  poor  man  that  he  threatened  to  summon  Alexander 
again,  to  wrhich  the  furious  woman  retorted  by  calling  him 
a  magician.  Finally  the  quarrel  was  ended  by  the  resolve  to 


210  THE  DISINHERITING  OF  A  SON 

refer  the  dispute  to  some  friends  and  to  beg  them  to  judge 
between  them.  The  friends,  when  they  had  listened  to  what 
had  passed,  laughed  at  the  wife,  and  said  that  all  they  could 
make  of  it  was  that  her  husband  had  cried  out  his  son's  name, 
and  that  someone  had  answered  '  Here.'  In  their  opinion, 
that  was  all  there  was  in  the  affair,  and  they  advised  the  two 
to  be  reconciled  to  each  other  as  soon  as  possible. 

Of  course,  if  the  husband  had  possessed  any  sense  he 
would  have  turned  his  wife's  fright  to  good  account,  but  he 
was  very  weak  and  terribly  afraid  of  her.  He  agreed  after 
much  arguing  to  sign  the  deed  she  wanted  in  the  presence  of 
two  witnesses,  saying  as  he  delivered  it  to  her  : 

'  You  have  worried  me  into  this  by  your  horrible  temper, 
but  I  have  signed  it  against  justice  and  my  conscience,  and 
depend  upon  it,  I  shall  never  perform  it,  as  I  am  satisfied  in 
my  mind  that  my  son  is  alive.' 

When  four  months  had  passed,  and  the  year  was  up,  the 
woman  told  her  husband  that  the  time  was  come  to  perform 
his  promise  about  the  estate,  and  to  have  the  new  deeds 
executed  to  settle  it  upon  her  son.  Therefore  she  had  invited 
the  two  friends  who  had  helped  them  before,  to  dine  with 
them  the  next  night,  and  they  would  see  that  everything  was 
done  properly. 

The  following  evening  they  were  all  seated  round  a  table, 
which  was  covered  with  papers.  The  new  deeds  handing 
over  the  estate  to  the  second  wife's  son  on  the  death  of  his 
father  were  read  out  and  signed,  and  the  wife  took  up  the 
old  deeds  which  had  appointed  Alexander  heir  to  his  own 
mother's  property,  and  tore  off  the  seal.  .At  that  instant  an 
icy,  whistling  wind  rushed  through  the  room,  as  if  someone 
had  entered  from  the  hall  and  passed  out  by  the  garden  door, 
which  was  shut. 

Nothing  was  seen,  but  they  all  shivered.  The  wife 
turned  pale,  but,  recovering  herself,  asked  her  husband  what 
tricks  he  was  playing  now,  to  which  he  answered  angrily  that 
he  knew  no  more  about  it  than  anybody  else. 

'  When  did  you  last  hear  from  your  son  ?  '  asked  one  of  the 
gentlemen  present. 


THE  DISINHERITING  OF  A  SON  21 1 

'  Five  years  ago,'  replied  the  father. 
'  And  have  you  not  written  to  him  about  this  business  ? 
continued  the  gentleman. 

'  No  ;  for  I  did  not  know  where  to  write  to.' 
'  Sir,'  said  his  friend  earnestly,  '  I  never  saw  a  ghost  in  my 
life,  nor  believed  in  them  ;   and  even  now  I  have  seen  nothing. 
But  that  something  passed   through   the  room  just  now  was 
quite  clear.     I  heard  it  distinctly.' 

'  And  I  felt  the  wind  it  made  as  it  passed  by  me,'  remarked 
another  witness. 

'  Pray,  sir,'  said  the  first,  addressing  himself  to  the  father  ; 
'  have  you  seen  anything  at  any  time,  or  heard  voices  or 
noises,  or  dreamed  anything  about  this  matter  ?  ' 

'  Many  times  I  have  dreamed  that  my  son  was  alive,  and 
that  I  had  spoken  with  him,  and  once  that  I  had  asked  him 
why  lie  had  not  written  to  me  for  so  long,  seeing  that  I  had  it 
in  my  power  to  disinherit  him.' 

'  And  what  answer  did  he  make  to  that  ?  ' 
'  I  never  dreamt  on  so  long  as  to  have  his  answer.' 
'  And  what  do  you  think  yourself  ?    Do  you  believe  he  is 
dead  ?  ' 

'  No  ;  I  do  not.  I  believe  he  is  alive,  and  that  if  I  disinherit 
him  I  shall  commit  a  sin.' 

'  Truly,'  said  the  second  witness  ;  '  it  begins  to  shock  me.  ] 
will  meddle  with  it  no  further.'  But  at  these  words  the  wife, 
who  had  recovered  her  courage,  exclaimed  : 

'  What  is  the  use  of  talking  like  that  ?  Everything  is  settled. 
Why  else  are  we  here  ?  7  am  not  frightened,  if  you  are,'  and 
again  she  took  up  one  of  the  old  deeds,  in  order  to  tear  off  the 
seal. 

Then  the  window  flew  open  and  the  shadow  of  a  body  was 
seen  standing  outside,  with  its  face  looking  straight  at  her 
face. 

'  Here,'  said  a  voice,  and  the  spectre  vanished. 
In  spite  of  her  boasted  courage,  the  wife  shrieked  and 
fell  in  hysterics,  and  the  two  witnesses  took  up  the  deeds. 

'  We  will  have  no  more  to  do  with  this  business,'  cried 
they,  and,  taking  up  the  new  deeds  which  they  had  signed, 

r2 


212  THE  DISINHERITING  OF  A  SON 

they  tore  off  their  names,  and  by  so  doing  these  deeds  became 
of  no  value,  and  the  elder  son  was  still  heir  to  the  property. 

Four  or  five  months  later  the  young  man  arrived  from 
India,  where  he  had  gone  from  Portugal  soon  after  leaving 
home.  The  two  gentlemen  who  had  been  concerned  in  the 
matter  of  the  deeds,  as  well  as  his  father,  put  many  questions 
to  him  as  to  whether  he  on  his  side  had  seen  visions  or  heard 
voices  which  warned  him  of  the  plots  going  on  against  him. 
But  Alexander  denied  having  received  warning  of  any  sort, 
'  unless,'  he  added,  '  you  can  so  call  a  dream  I  once  had — 
which  was  indeed  what  sent  me  home — that  my  father  had 
written  me  a  very  angry  letter,  threatening  me,  if  I  stayed 
away  any  longer,  to  deprive  me  of  my  inheritance.  But  why 
do  you  want  to  know  ?  ' 


'HEBE,'  SAID  A  VOICE 


THE  SIEGE  OF  RHODES 

WHEN  you  are  reading  the  history  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
you  will  notice  that  in  Europe  nearly  the  whole  of  that 
period  was  occupied  by  two  struggles  :  the  struggle  of  the 
Reformed  religion  against  the  Catholic  Church,  and  that  of 
the  Christian  world  with  the  Sultans  of  Turkey. 

When  the  century  began,  the  Turks  had  been  lords  of 
Constantinople  for  fifty  years,  and  were  for  a  while  busy  with 
establishing  themselves  firmly  in  the  capital  of  the  Emperors 
of  the  East.  Then,  as  in  the  days  of  Mahomet's  successors 
nine  hundred  years  before,  they  proceeded  to  look  about  for 
fresh  worlds  to  conquer,  when  the  Crescent  should  trample 
underfoot  the  Cross.  In  1521,  Solyman,  accompanied  by  a  vast 
host,  marched  northwards  to  Hungary,  and  after  a  two  months' 
siege  captured  the  town  of  Belgrade.  This  expedition  was 
undertaken  by  the  Sultan  in  obedience  to  the  wishes  of  his 
father,  who  died  before  he  could  march  there  himself ;  but 
what  the  young  man  really  longed  to  possess  was  the  beautiful 
Island  of  Rhodes  lying  at  a  short  distance  from  the  coast  of 
Asia  Minor. 

His  councillors  shook  then'  heads  when  he  told  them  of  his 
plan.  The  city  of  Rhodes  was  the  stronghold  of  the  Brother- 
hood of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem  and  the  Knights  had  seen  to 
its  fortifications.  It  might  be  taken,  of  course  ;  still  the  loss 
of  life  Mras  sure  to  be  tremendous  and  the  Sultan  possessed 
other  islands  as  lovely  and  fertile  as  Rhodes.  No  doubt  he 
did  ;  but  it  was  Rhodes  he  wanted,  so  Solyman  turned  from 
his  old  councillors  and  listened  to  the  advice  of  his  brother- 
in-law,  Mustafa  Pasha. 

The  first  step  was  to  discover  something  about  the  town 
and  its  defences  :  how  many  men  could  be  mustered  on  the 
215 


216  THE  SIEGE  OF  RHODES 

walls,  and  what  means  the  Knights  had  of  providing  against 
a  long  siege.  For  this  purpose  he  despatched  a  Jewish 
physician  greatly  trusted  by  his  father,  to  the  island,  with 
orders  to  pretend  himself  ready  to  become  a  Christian  so  as 
to  find  favour  with  the  Grand  Master  of  the  Knights  of 
St.  John,  and  to  lose  no  opportunity  of  making  friends  with 
the  people  by  trying  to  cure  their  sick.  These  instructions 
were  faithfully  carried  out  by  the  Jew,  who  sent  word  to  the 
Sultan  that  an  important  part  of  one  of  the  city  walls  was 
being  rebuilt,  and  that  if  an  army  could  be  landed  before  the 
work  could  be  completed,  the  men  would  easily  be  able  to 
enter  the  breach. 

Now  the  Jew,  of  course,  was  fulfilling  the  task  given  him, 
and  was  risking  his  own  neck  in  the  accomplishment  of  it. 
But  what  can  be  said  of  the  treachery  of  one  of  the  Knights 
themselves  who  out  of  jealousy  had  bidden  Solyman  to  besiege 
the  town  ?  This  man,  Sir  Andrew  de  Merall,  was  a  Portuguese 
and  so  highly  thought  of  among  his  fellows  that  he  had  been 
named  Chancellor  of  the  Order.  He  expected,  however,  to 
be  the  next  Grand  Master,  and  when,  on  the  death  of  Fabrice 
of  Cacetto,  Sir  Philip  de  Villiers  was  chosen  in  his  place,  de 
Merall's  rage  at  being  passed  over  was  such  that  he  could  not 
control  himself.  The  Knights  did  not  pay  much  heed  to  his 
words  ;  it  was  natural,  they  thought,  that  he  should  be 
disappointed,  but  he  would  soon  calm  down  again.  And 
so  de  Merall  did,  to  all  outward  appearance,  and  no  one 
guessed  how  black  were  his  thoughts. 

A  pretext  for  his  treason  was  soon  found  :  it  was  easy  for 
him  to  send  over  a  Turkish  prisoner  to  Constantinople,  on  the 
plea  of  the  man  raising  money  for  his  ransom,  and  instructing 
the  Turk  beforehand  exactly  what  he  was  to  tell  the  Sultan 
as  to  the  condition  of  the  city. 

'  He  will  never  find  a  better  time,'  said  the  traitor,  '  seeing 
that  the  wall  is  now  partly  down  and  there  is  mischief  among 
some  Italian  Knights.  As  to  help  from  without,  the  Christian 
princes  are  busy  warring  each  upon  the  other,  and,  if  this 
should  last,  the  town  will  be  his  without  fail,'  which  thing 
came  to  pass. 


THE  SIEGE' OF  RHODES  217 

The  Sultan  took  the  counsel  given  him,  and  assembled  a 
great  fleet  in  all  haste  to  bear  his  army  through  the  JEge&n 
Sea.  In  order  to  keep  everything  as  secret  as  possible,  he 
forbade  his  subjects  to  enter  Rhodes  on  any  pretence  what- 
ever. But  the  return  of  the  Turkish  spy  and  his  friendship 
with  de  Merall  was  noted  by  all,  and  the  Grand  Master's 
own  men  reported  that  a  large  army  was  being  assembled  in 
Turkey.  Yet,  in  spite  of  these  rumours,  Sir  Philip  de  Villiers  did 
not  disquiet  himself.  No  Turkish  host  had  ever  captured 
Rhodes,  and  when  the  wall  was  repaired  the  defences  would 
be  stronger  than  before.  And  it  was  far  more  likely  that  the 
fleet  was  intended  for  the  Adriatic,  and  meant  either  to  attack 
Venice  herself  or  some  of  her  dependencies  on  the  opposite 
coast.  Still,  in  order  not  to  be  caught  unawares,  the  Grand 
Master  heightened  the  walls  and  deepened  the  trenches 
beyond  them  while  he  filled  the  storehouses  with  food,  and 
the  magazines  with  powder. 

His  precautions  were  received  with  scorn  by  the  larger 
number  of  his  Knights  and  most  of  the  citizens.  '  Why,  the 
town  was  already  provisioned  for  a  year  or  more,'  they  said, 
'  and  no  siege  would  last  as  long  as  that.'  But  the  day  came 
when  they  lamented  that  the  granaries  had  not  been  twice  the 
size,  and  the  magazines  three  times  bigger,  for  a  month  before 
the  surrender  of  the  town  food  was  hardly  to  be  had,  and 
ammunition  had  almost  failed  them. 

Though  no  help  was  to  be  expected  from  the  great  nations 
of  Christendom,  and  the  Governor  of  Candia  or  Crete  forbade 
his  men  to  serve  under  the  Grand  Master  of  the  Knights  in 
Rhodes,  Sir  Philip  de  Villiers  contrived  by  his  energy  to  get  in 
a  large  quantity  of  wine  from  the  island.  Besides  this,  he 
was  greatly  cheered  by  the  kindness  of  a  private  gentleman 
from  Venice,  who  not  only  brought  over  a  ship  laden  with 
700  butts  of  wine  for  their  use,  instead  of  selling  his  cargo  at 
Constantinople  as  he  had  meant  to  do,  but  stayed  and  fought 
for  them  himself,  and  put  all  he  had  at  their  disposal.  Night 
and  day  the  Grand  Master  worked  ;  he  seemed  to  be  every- 
where at  once,  and  to  think  of  everything.  Now  he  was  in  the 


218  THE  SIEGE  OF  RHODES 

powder  magazine  watching  the  officers  serving  out  ammunition 
to  the  soldiers  ;  now  he  was  on  the  walls  testing  the  strength 
of  the  repairs  ;  now  he  was  in  the  fields  examining  the  corn 
and  deciding  what  was  ripe  enough  to  be  cut  and  brought  in. 
When  this  was  done  he  gathered  into  the  city  the  people  of 
the  neighbouring  villages. 

Hardly  was  this  accomplished  when  news  arrived  that  the 
Turks  were  near  at  hand.  Then  the  Grand  Master  ordered 
a  muster  of  all  the  men  capable  of  bearing  arms,  and  began 
with  the  Knights,  the  flower  of  many  races  ;  and  a  splendid 
sight  they  were,  in  their  scarlet  tunics  with  a  large  white  cross 
on  the  breast.  To  each  he  appointed  his  place,  with  his 
special  duties,  and  next  proceeded  to  the  citizens  and  the 
strangers,  giving  them  separate  colours  and  mottoes,  and 
forming  them  into  companies.  But  at  the  most  the  defenders 
did  not  number  more  than  6,000,  and  who  could  tell  how 
many  the  Turks  might  be  ? 

On  June  18,  1522,  the  Turkish  fleet  was  sighted,  and  for 
the  next  fortnight  it  moved  from  place  to  place  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Rhodes,  till  it  finally  cast  anchor  about  six 
miles  from  the  town  and  remained  there  till  the  end  of  the 
siege.  Four  hundred  ships,  large  and  small,  were  said  to  be 
assembled,  and  for  a  fortnight  some  of  the  galleys  went  to  and 
from  the  mainland,  returning  with  fresh  supplies  and  more 
soldiers.  Meanwhile  the  Grand  Master  left  his  palace  and 
took  up  his  abode  near  the  part  of  the  walls  where  he  expected 
the  fight  to  be  fiercest.  He  had  need  of  vigilance  ;  for  more 
to  be  dreaded  than  the  enemy  without  were  the  traitors 
within,  though  as  yet  none  suspected  de  Merall  of  treason. 
But  many  of  the  women  slaves  serving  in  the  houses  of  the 
rich  were  Turks,  who  sought  to  help  their  countrymen. 
This  was  to  be  done  by  setting  fire  to  their  masters'  houses 
at  the  moment  of  the  first  assault,  in  order  to  tempt  the  soldiers 
to  leave  their  posts  at  the  defences,  to  put  out  the  flames. 
Luckily  the  plot  was  betrayed  and  the  leader  executed  before 
any  harm  was  done.  The  Turkish  male  slaves,  on  the  con- 
trary, were  faithful  throughout,  and  as  they  numbered  1,500 
were  of  great  importance,  working  hard  hi  the  trenches. 


THE  SIEGE  OF  RHODES  219 

The  walls  were  divided  into  different  portions,  called  some- 
times after  the  kingdoms  and  sometimes  after  provinces  of 
countries.  There  was  the  '  gate  of  Italy,'  the  '  gate  of 
Almaine  '  or  Germany,  the  '  gate  of  Auvergne,'  the  '  gate  of 
Provence,'  the  '  Walls  of  England  and  Spain  '  ;  and  it  was  at 
these  two  walls  that  the  first  assault  was  directed.  The 
Turks  shot  huge  stones  from  their  guns,  and  their  engines 
cast  them  upwards  into  the  air,  so  that  they  fell  down 
with  tremendous  force  into  the  street,  but  strangely  enough 
they  did  little  damage  to  anyone.  Soon  there  arrived  in 
Rhodes,  from  Candia,  Captain  Gabriel  Martinengo  and  two 
other  captains,  all  skilled  in  war.  while  the  following  day 
the  young  Sultan  himself  joined  his  fleet. 

His  presence  inspired  the  army  with  fresh  energy.  The 
soldiers  now  began  to  take  aim  with  harquebuses  and  '  hand- 
guns,' and  to  erect  mounds  nearer  the  town  as  cover  for  their 
marksmen.  They  worked  under  a  heavy  fire  from  the 
besieged,  and  though  many  of  them  were  slain,  the  hill  they 
made  grew  steadily  higher  till  at  length  it  overtopped  the 
wall  of  Spain  and  the  gate  of  Auvergne  by  ten  or  twelve  feet. 
The  Christians,  in  their  turn,  rebuilt  the  walls  with  boards 
and  trenches  for  cover,  but  not  before  numbers  who  could  ill 
be  spared  had  fallen  victims  to  the  fire  of  the  Turks. 

In  spite  of  the  hosts  encamped  before  them,  the  courage 
of  the  defenders  never  failed,  and  for  a  time  it  seemed  as  if 
their  strength  would  never  fail  either.  Vainly  did  the  besiegers 
build  screens  or  '  mantelets  '  of  wood  or  stones,  behind  which 
their  soldiers  could  shoot  in  safety  ;  a  well-directed  fire  beat 
on  them  with  such  persistence  that  at  length  they  got  weary 
of  constantly  repairing,  and  moved  their  mantelets  away  to 
some  other  place.  But  though  the  Knights  had  won  the  day 
here,  the  number  of  the  Turks  was  beginning  to  tell,  as  it  was 
bound  to  do  in  the  long  run.  It  did  not  matter  to  them  how 
many  were  killed,  there  were  always  plenty  more  to  take 
their  places,  and  at  the  end  of  a  month  the  wall  of  England 
was  cast  down,  and  a  breach  was  made  hi  the  wall  of  Spain. 
Gabriel  Martinengo  did  his  utmost  to  make  use  of  these 
disasters  and  his  guns  fired  through  the  breaches  into  the 


220  THE  SIEGE  OF  RHODES 

trenches,  while  lie  stationed  men  with  harquebuses  on  the 
roofs  of  the  houses.  To  this  the  enemy  answered  by  throwing 
hollow  stones  into  the  town  filled  with  that  terrible  Greek  fire 
which  it  was  said  could  only  be  put  out  by  burying  it  under 
earth.  Some  of  the  wooden  buildings  caught,  but  on  the 
whole,  not  much  harm  was  done. 

So  passed  August,  and  September  brought  a  new  terror 
to  the  besieged.  The  Turks  were  undermining  the  town,  and 
countermines  had  to  be  prepared.  The  mine  under  the  wall 
of  England,  however,  was  so  well  laid  with  gunpowder  that 
when  it  exploded  all  the  town  felt  the  shock,  and  part  of 
the  wall  fell  into  the  trench,  whereat  the  Turks  leaped  into 
the  breach  waving  their  banners  and  poured  forth  an 
incessant  fire  from  their  hand-guns.  For  three  hours  the  battle 
raged ;  then  the  victory  remained  with  the  Grand  Master,  and 
the  enemy  retired,  leaving  a  thousand  dead  upon  the  ground. 

Again  and  again  the  assault  was  renewed  upon  one  or 
other  of  the  walls  and  gates.  The  fire  of  the  besieged  was  so 
fierce  that,  brave  as  they  were,  the  Turks  often  recoiled  before  it 
and  had  literally  to  be  driven  forward  by  their  officers.  Their 
loss  was  always  much  greater  than  that  of  the  Christians, 
as  must  invariably  happen  in  a  siege  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
some  of  the  best  and  most  useful  of  the  Christian  Knights  were , 
killed  by  the  enemy. 

Throughout  September  the  mining  continued,  and    ex-j 
plosions  were  frequent.     Sixty  thousand  Turks  were  now  inj 
the  trenches  all  well  armed,  and  it  was  easy  for  them  to  attack 
the  walls  in  various  places  at  once.     On  the  24th  the  famous 
Turkish  band  of  Janizaries,  led  by  their  chief,  fought  their 
way  into  the  bulwark  of  Spain,  and  planted  their  standards ; 
on  the  top.     It  seemed  as  if  the  capture  of  the  town  was] 
inevitable,  but  the  Grand  Master  on  hearing  of  the  peril  1 
hastened  from  his  post  at  the  gate  of  England,  and  put 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  combatants  at  the  bulwark  of 
Spain.     The  struggle  lasted   for  hours,   but  at  length  the! 
Turks  gave  way,  and  so  many  of  them  lay  dead  that  you; 
could  not  see  the  ground  for  the  corpses. 

From  his  tent  Solyman  had  watched  it  all,  and  '  was  very 


DISCOVERING  THE  TRAITOR. 


THE  SIEGE  OF  RHODES  221 

sore  displeased,  and  half  in  despair.'  He  laid  the  whole 
blame  of  defeat  on  Mustafa  Pasha,  his  brother-in-law,  because, 
he  declared,  without  his  advice  the  siege  would  never  have  been 
undertaken.  The  Sultan  even  wished  in  his  anger  to  put 
the  unfortunate  man  to  death,  but  was  dissuaded  from  his 
purpose  by  the  other  pashas,  on  the  ground  that  '  it  would 
comfort  their  enemies  and  give  them  courage.'  So  Mustafa's 
life  was  spared,  and  '  that  he  might  do  something  to  please 
the  Turk,  as  well  for  his  honour  as  for  to  save  his  person,  he 
was  marvellously  diligent  to  make  mines  at  the  bulwark  of 
England.' 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  traitors  in  the  town  who  sent 
letters  to  the  Sultan  showing  that  it  was  impossible  for  the 
defenders  to  hold  out  much  longer  the  siege  would  now  have 
been  raised.  After  three  months  of  almost  hand-to-hand 
warfare,  in  spite  of  mines  that  threw  down  the  houses  and 
breaches  that  had  been  made  in  the  walls,  the  Turks  did 
not  seem  any  nearer  their  end.  Even  the  Janizaries  declared 
they  would  fight  no  more,  and  from  the  walls  the  Christians 
noted  bodies  of  stragglers  making  their  way  towards  the 
Turkish  fleet. 

Then  one  night  an  Albanian  captive  stole  out  to  the 
enemy's  camp,  bearing  letters  from  de  Merall  and  the  other 
betrayers  of  their  land  and  their  religion,  and  the  next 
morning  the  fire  of  the  enemy  was  hotter  than  ever. 

Early  in  October  three  successive  assaults  were  made  on 
the  bulwark  of  England,  but  were  beaten  back  at  the  cost  of 
many  lives,  the  Turkish  soldiers  vowing  at  last  that  no  one, 
not  the  Sultan  himself,  should  induce  them  to  make  another 
attack  on  a  place  so  obstinately  defended.  Indeed,  a  mutiny 
nearly  broke  out  among  the  troops.  Some  of  all  this  was 
perceived  by  the  Christians,  and  their  hearts  beat  with  joy. 
By  command  of  the  Grand  Master  a  body  of  men  went  outside 
the  walls  while  the  guns  above  played  upon  the  enemy,  and 
cleared  away  the  earth  from  the  ditch  beyond,  bringing  it 
back  into  the  town  where  they  flung  it  down  inside  the  wall. 
And  this,  though  they  did  not  guess  it,  proved  later  one  of 


222  THE  SIEGE  OF  RHODES 

the  causes  of  their  undoing.  So  busy  were  they,  that  they 
did  not  perceive  that  the  Turks,  having  covered  their  trenches 
with  boards,  worked  hard  at  boring  a  passage  which  came 
out  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  under  the  barbican — a  sort 
of  small  fortification — by  which  means  they  were  able  to  gain 
the  foot  of  the  wall. 

Therefore  now,  on  October  17,  the  fighting  began  on  the 
inside.  In  vain  the  Christians  tried  by  every  means  to 
drive  the  Turks  from  the  barbican ;  they  could  never  be  dis- 
lodged. Then  Sir  Gabriel  Martinengo  ordered,  as  a  last] 
resource,  that  the  wall  should  be  broken  down  so  that  these 
might  be  reached  face  to  face,  but  when  this  was  done  the 
Christians  were  no  nearer  success.  Three  days  after,  the] 
Turks  fastened  strong  ropes,  weighted  with  anchors,  to  the! 
walls  which  had  already  been  undermined  ;  but  the  artillery, ; 
placed  on  the  bulwark  of  Auvergne,  cut  the  ropes  and  sent, 
away  the  besiegers. 

By  this  time  all  the  slaves  in  the  Christian  army  and 
many  of  the  soldiers  had  fallen,  and  there  was  hardly  anyone  j 
left  to  do  the  repairs  or  to  carry  the  wounded  to  the  Hospital  i 
within  the  city.  It  was  evident  to  everyone  that  the  end  was  j 
not  far  off,  and  it  was  then,  when  things  could  scarcely  be  worse,  ] 
that  the  sorest  blow  of  all  was  dealt  to  the  courage  of  thefl 
Grand  Master.  Hitherto  the  treachery  of  Sir  Andrew  do 
Merall  had  been  totally  unsuspected  by  him,  but  one  day  ajj 
servant  of  the  Portuguese  Knight  was  caught  in  the  act  of 
firing  a  cross-bow  into  the  Turkish  camp,  with  a  letter  tiedt; 
to  the  shaft.  Taken  before  the  Grand  Master  the  man  con- 
fessed that  it  was  not  the  first  occasion  by  many  that,  at  thei 
command  of  his  master,  he  had  in  like  manner  sent  the  enemy^ 
information  of  the  condition  of  the  town,  warning  them  now 
to  leave,  as  men,  powder,  and  provisions  were  rapidly  failing, 

But  cut  to  the  heart  though  he  was,  the  Grand  Master  had 
no  leisure  as  yet  to  attend  to  de  Merall ;  he  ordered  the 
servant  to  be  locked  up  securely,  and  went  back  to  the  walls, 
which  he  scarcely  ever  left.  The  bulwark  of  England  was 
now  in  the  hands  of  the  Turks,  who  were  arranging  a  fierce 
assault  on  the  wall  of  Spain.  The  last  great  battle  took 


THE  SIEGE  OF  RHODES  223 

[place  on  November  29,  and  for  the  last  time  the  Christians 
'were  victorious. 

A  few  days  after  this  a  native  of  Genoa — probably  a 
prisoner — came  out  of  the  Turkish  camp  to  the  gate  of 
Auvergne  and  demanded  to  speak  with  someone  in  authority. 
When  his  request  was  granted,  he  inquired  why  the  town, 
which  could  hold  out  no  longer,  was  not  surrendered,  while 
there  was  yet  time  to  get  good  terms  from  the  Sultan.  Thrice 
lie  made  attempts  to  prevail  on  the  Knights  to  listen  to  his 
proposals,  but  they  would  not,  preferring  rather  to  die  at  their 
posts.  The  townspeople,  however,  thought  otherwise,  and 
whispered  together  secretly  at  first,  and  then  openly,  that 
:hey  would  fain  save  their  own  lives  and  that  of  their  children, 
seeing  there  was  no  further  hope  of  driving  away  the  enemy. 
-Vnd  these  murmurings  soon  came  to  the  ears  of  the  council, 
vho  laid  them  before  the  Grand  Master. 

While  the  assembled  lords  were  talking  over  this  weighty 
natter,  some  of  the  citizens  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  chamber 
md,  being  admitted, '  meekly  besought  the  said  reverend  lord 
the  Grand  Master)  to  consider  the  piteous  and  sorrowful 
"state  the  town  was  in,'  and  to  pray  that  if  he  would  not 
urrender  it,  at  least  to  send  away  their  wives  and  children, 
or  otherwise  they  would  become  slaves  or  be  slain.  'And 
he  conclusion  was,  that  if  the  said  lord  would  not  purvey, 
hey  would  purvey  for  it  themselves.  That  is,  they  would 
ee  to  the  placing  in  safety  of  their  wives  and  children.' 

The  Grand  Master  heard  them  with  a  gloomy  face,  and 
lismissed  them,  saying,  they  should  know  shortly  what  was 
n  the  minds  of  the  council  to  do.  He  then  inquired  of  the 
v night  who  had  charge  of  the  gunpowder  how  much  there 
k-as  left,  and  received  for  answer  '  not  more  than  was  needed 
o  withstand  two  assaults.'  At  that  the  Grand  Master  turned 
o  Sir  Gabriel  Martinengo,  who  was  Captain  of  the  soldiers,  and 
•sked  if  the  town  might  hold  out  or  not,  or  if  there  were  any 
leans  to  save  it. 

'  Scarcely  are  there  folk  enough  to  move  a  piece  of  artillery 
com  one  place  to  another,'  answered  he,  '  and  it  is  impossible 


224  THE  SIEGE  OF  RHODES 

without  folk  to  set  up  the  repairs  which  every  day  are  broken 
and  crushed  by  the  great,  furious,  and  continual  shot  of  the 
enemy.' 

Very  unwillingly  the  Grand  Master  was  convinced  that 
his  cause  was  hopeless  and  that,  as  it  was  the  wish  of  the 
people  and  of  many  of  the  lords  also,  a  treaty  must  be  made 
with  the  Sultan.  '  He  took  it  most  heavily  and  was  more 
sorrowful  than  any  of  the  others,'  writes  the  old  chronicler, 
'  for  the  business  belonged  very  near  to  him.' 

So  a  '  sign  '  was  set  upon  the  tower  of  the  abbey  outside 
the  walls,  and  the  two  Turks  who  came  from  the  camp  in 
answer  bore  with  them  a  letter  from  Solyman  to  the  Grand 
Master,  offering,  in  case  of  surrender,  to  let  all  the  Knights  and 
the  people  leave  the  town  with  their  '  goods  and  jewels 
without  fear  of  harm  or  displeasure  of  his  folks.  But  that  if 
the  Grand  Master  would  not  accept  the  treaty  none  of  the 
city  should  think  to  escape,  but  they  all,  unto  the  cats,  should 
pass  by  the  edge  of  the  sword.' 

The  die  had  been  cast  by  the  council,  yet  even  so  the 
Grand  Master  could  not  bear  to  deliver  up  his  trust,  and 
seems  to  have  sought  to  delay  matters.  Therefore  he  sent 
two  of  his  Knights  into  the  Turkish  camp  to  beg  an  audience 
of  the  Sultan  and  to  ascertain  without  a  doubt  that  faith 
would  be  kept  with  the  Christians. 

The  ambassadors  were  received  courteously  by  two  high 
Turkish  officials,  and  a  truce  of  three  days  was  agreed  upon, 
during  which  '  the  enemies  came  to  our  repairs  and  spake  with 
our  folk,  and  drank  with  one  another,'  as  enemies  should 
after  the  battle  is  over.  When  the  Christian  Knights  saw  the 
Sultan,  he  repeated  his  terms,  and  informed  them  that  at 
the  end  of  the  truce  he  must  have  an  answer.  He  then  dis- 
missed them,  giving  each  a  garment  of  velvet  and  cloth  of  gold 
as  a  present. 

Thus  all  was  arranged  for  the  yielding  up  of  the  city,  when  a 
most  unexpected  thing  happened.  Some  of  the  very  citizens 
who  had  been  most  urgent  for  the  surrender  now  appeared 
before  the  Grand  Master  and  the  council,  and  declared  that 


THE  SIEGE  OF  RHODES  225 

as  they  had  not  been  consulted  they  would  not  consent  to 
ceding  the  town,  and  they  might  as  well  die  while  defending 
it,  for  they  were  sure  to  be  put  to  death  anyhow. 

In  fact,  they  behaved  more  like  a  set  of  pettish  children 
than  like  men,  whose  lives  were  at  stake. 

However  much  these  words  of  the  citizens  may  have 
chimed  in  with  his  secret  wishes,  the  Grand  Master's  reason 
toldjiim  that  he  had  no  right  to  take  advantage  of  their 
folly,  and  all  he  would  agree  to  was  to  send  two  fresh  ambas- 
sadors to  the  Turkish  camp,  begging  the  Sultan  once  more 
to  repeat  his  conditions  and  give  them  renewed  guarantees. 
Not  unnaturally  Solyman  declined  to  be  played  with  like 
this,  and  his  only  answer  was  to  order  an  attack  to  be  sounded 
at  once.  Refreshed  by  the  three  days'  truce  the  Turks  fought 
harder  than  ever,  and  hour  by  hour  pressed  nearer  into  the 
town.  Then  the  Grand  Master  summoned  the  citizens  who 
had  prevented  the  surrender,  and  said  that  as  they  were 
willing  to  die  he  was  well  content  to  die  with  them,  and  that 
a  proclamation  would  be  made  throughout  the  town  that 
every  man  should  be  at  his  post  at  the  gates  day  and  night,  and 
that,  if  he  left,  instant  death  would  be  the  penalty. 

For  a  day  or  two  the  Rhodians  were  most  zealous  at  the 

!  i  walls — especially  after  one  had  been  hanged  for  desertion — but 

i  soon  their  hearts  failed  ;   they  slunk  away,  and  as  it  was  not 

<  possible  to  hang  everybody  the  Knights  were  left  to  defend 

I  the  walls  themselves.     At  length  the  Grand  Master  sent  to 

*  inquire   of    the   citizens  why   they  had  broken   their   word 

)    and    abandoned    their   duty,   to   which   they   made  answer 

j  that     '  when    they    had    gainsaid    the    surrender    of    the 

jjtown,    they   had   been    wrongly   informed   of   many   things. 

;.; '  But  that  now  the  Grand  Master  might  do  whatever  seemed 

j  ;good  to  him,  only  they  prayed  him  to  grant  them  the  favour 

;of  sending  two  among  them  as  ambassadors  to  the  Great 

i  !Turk.' 

This  time  the  negotiations  took  longer  than  before,  and 

1  after  rejecting  the  excellent  terms  Solyman  had  offered  them 

in  the  first  instance,  the  Christians  were  not  in  a  position  to 

demand  anything  more  than  their  lives.    The  Sultan,  however, 

Q 


226  THE  SIEGE  OF  RHODES 

was  generous,  and  though  his  soldiers  cannot  be  said  to 
have°kept  completely  to  the  conditions  of  the  treaty,  they 
confined  themselves  to  pillaging  the  town,  and  offered  violence 
to  nobody. 

Thus  ended  on  Christmas  Day  1522  the  famous  Siege  of 
Rhodes,  after  it  had  lasted  six  months. 


THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON 

BELUS,  King  of  Babylon,  thought  himself  the  greatest  man 
in  all  the  earth,  for  his  subjects  were  continually  telling  him 
so  and  he  had  no  difficulty  in  believing  them.  It  was  very 
absurd,  of  course,  but  there  is  this  to  be  said  in  his  excuse, 
that  though  his  ancestors  had  built  Babylon  thirty  thousand 
years  before,  it  owed  its  chief  beauties  to  him.  Belus  it 
was  who  constructed  the  vast  palace  with  its  famous  '  hanging 
gardens,'  and  planted  with  fruit-trees  the  park  stretching 
from  the  Euphrates  to  the  Tigris,  everything  being  kept 
fresh  and  cool  in  that  burning  heat  by  means  of  canals  and 
fountains  which  scattered  their  waters  around. 

But  though  Babylon  contained  much  that  was  beautiful, 
the  palace  itself  held  the  most  beautiful  and  precious  thing  of 
all,  the  king's  only  child,  the  Princess  Formosante  ;  and  her 
father  was  prouder  of  her  than  of  his  whole  empire  put 
together.  Still,  with  all  his  delight  in  his  daughter's  presence, 
he  knew  his  duty,  and  that  now  she  was  eighteen  it  was 
needful  to  find  her  a  suitable  husband.  Yet,  who  was  worthy 
of  such  a  prize  ?  One  by  one  Belus  passed  the  kings  of  the 
earth  in  judgment  before  him,  and  could  not  answer  this 
question.  Then  he  remembered  that  the  oracle  which  had 
been  consulted  at  Formosante's  birth  had  declared  that  only  he 
who  could  bend  the  iron  bow  of  Nimrod,  the  mighty  hunter, 
should  win  the  hand  of  the  princess. 

Well,  since  that  was  the  decision  of  the  oracle — which, 
of  course,  must  be  obeyed — matters  became  in  one  way  a  little 
easier.  But,  could  Belus  be  mistaken  ?  Had  not  the  oracle 
said  something  else  ?  Oh,  yes  !  he  recollected  now  that  the 
arm  which  could  draw  the  bow  must  overcome  also  the  largest 
227  Q2 


228  THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON 

and  fiercest  lion  ever  seen  in  Babylon,  and  be  the  best,  the 
cleverest,  and  the  most  splendid  of  men,  and  possess  the  rarest 
object  in  the  whole  uni verse. 

And  as  one  by  one  Belus  recalled  these  conditions  he 
sighed  aloud,  for  where  should  he  look  for  a  son-in-law 
like  that  ? 

King  Belus  need  not  have  been  so  anxious  as  regards  suitors 
for  the  princess,  for  as  an  old  song  says  : 

'  Where  maidens  are  fair,  many  lovers  will  come,' 

and  Formosante  was  very  fair  indeed.  The  fame  of  her 
beauty  had  spread  far  and  wide,  and  soon  the  Court  of  Babylon 
received  notice  that  the  Pharaoh  of  Egypt,  the  Shah  of  India, 
and  the  Khan  of  Scythia — such  were  the  names  these  nations 
gave  to  their  rulers — were  on  their  way  to  Babylon  to  ask 
the  hand  of  Formosante. 

Preparations  for  the  great  event  had  to  be  made  instantly, 
and  that  very  day  the  place  was  marked  out  in  the  park  for 
the  erection  of  a  marble  amphitheatre  capable  of  holding 
five  hundred  thousand  persons.  Opposite  the  amphitheatre 
was  a  high  throne  for  King  Belus  and  his  daughter,  and  on 
each  side,  but  a  step  lower,  were  those  for  the  princes  and  nobles 
who  might  wish  to  see  the  contest.  The  seats  for  the  three 
foreign  kings  were  set  a  little  apart. 

The  first  to  arrive  was  the  King  of  Egypt,  mounted  on 
the  bull  Apis  and  followed  by  a  train  of  eight  thousand 
attendants  ;  and  scarcely  had  Belus  bidden  him  welcome 
than  the  sound  of  trumpets  announced  the  approach  of  the 
King  of  India,  lying  upon  cushions  in  a  gorgeous  litter 
drawn  by  twelve  elephants,  and  attended  by  a  still  more 
numerous  company.  The  last  to  appear  was  the  King  of 
Scythia,  riding  a  tiger  as  tall  as  the  biggest  horse  from  Persia. 
He  had  with  him  only  a  few  picked  warriors,  magnificent 
men  armed  with  bows  and  arrows ;  but  the  king  himself  was 
more  imposing  than  any  of  his  soldiers,  and  the  Babylonians, 
as  they  looked  at  him,  said  to  themselves  :  '  Ah  !  there  is 
no  doubt  who  will  win  the  princess.' 


THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON  231 

When  they  were  all  assembled,  the  three  monarchs  fell 
on  their  faces  before  the  king  and  his  daughter,  and  then 
offered  the  gifts  they  had  brought  with  them.  The  present  of 
the  Pharaoh  consisted  of  two  of  the  finest  crocodiles  that 
could  be  caught  in  the  Nile,  two  hippopotamuses,  two  rats, 
and  two  mummies,  all  of  which  caused  the  princess  to  shudder 
at  their  ugliness.  In  his  hands  he  held  the  Book  of  Hermes, 
which  his  magicians  assured  him  was  the  rarest  treasure  on 
earth. 

The  Shah  of  India  brought  a  hundred  elephants  and  a 
document  written  by  the  hand  of  Xaca  himself ;  while  the 
Khan  of  Scythia,  who  could  neither  read  nor  write,  signed 
to  his  warriors  to  bring  forward  a  hundred  horses  covered  with 
skins  of  black  fox  fur. 

As  soon  as  the  offerings  had  been  made,  Formosante  bowed 
modestly,  but  did  not  raise  her  eyes  or  speak,  for  that  was 
never  expected  of  a  princess. 

'  Ah,  why  have  I  not  three  daughters  !  '  exclaimed  King 
Belus,  as  he  conducted  his  guests  to  their  thrones ;  '  then  I 
could  have  made  six  people  happy  !  Now  here  is  the  golden 
basin  holding  the  lots  which  you  must  draw.  The  one 
who  draws  the  longest,  first  pulls  the  bow.' 

It  was  the  Pharaoh  who  was  the  lucky  man,  and  the  master 
of  the  ceremonies  stepped  forward  with  the  long  golden  case, 
bearing  the  bow  of  Nimrod.  The  Pharaoh  was  about  to 
take  it  from  him,  when  there  suddenly  appeared  at  the  barrier 
which  had  been  erected  in  front  of  the  royal  seats  a  young 
man  mounted  on  a  unicorn,  with  a  bird  upon  his  wrist,  accom- 
panied by  a  single  attendant  also  riding  on  a  unicorn.  His 
face  was  fair  and  his  hair  shone  like  the  sun,  and  altogether 
he  was  so  different  from  the  dwellers  in  Babylon  that  the 
five  hundred  thousand  spectators  in  the  amphitheatre  rose 
to  their  feet  in  order  to  stare  at  him  better  ;  and  suddenly 
they  shouted  with  one  voice  :  '  He  is  the  only  man  on  earth 
handsome  enough  for  the  princess.' 

Formosante  heard  and  glanced  up  at  him  ;  then  looked 
hastily  doAvn.  The  kings  heard  too,  and  grew  pale. 

At  this  moment  the  ushers  approached  the  stranger  and 


232  THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON 

inquired  if  he  was  a  king.  The  young  man  replied  that  he 
did  not  have  that  honour,  but  that  he  had  travelled  far  to  see 
whether  the  suitors  who  were  to  present  themselves  were 
worthy  of  Formosante,  whose  renown  had  reached  even  his 
distant  country.  By  the  King  of  Babylon's  orders,  places 
were  found  for  him  and  his  attendant  in  the  front  row  of 
the  amphitheatre  :  his  bird  perched  on  his  shoulder,  and 
the  two  unicorns  crouched  at  his  feet. 

Now  all  was  ready  :  the  master  of  the  ceremonies,  who 
had  during  this  time  been  holding  the  case,  took  the  bow 
from  it  to  the  sound  of  trumpets,  and  presented  it  to  the 
King  of  Egypt.  The  Pharaoh,  who  had  not  the  slightest 
doubt  that  the  prize  would  fall  to  him,  laid  it  for  a  moment 
on  the  head  of  the  sacred  bull  Apis  and  stepped  into  the 
middle  of  the  arena.  The  bow,  though  made  of  iron,  looked 
flexible,  and  he  fitted  an  arrow  to  the  string  with  a  light 
heart.  But  try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  bend  it;  again 
and  again  he  put  forth  all  his  strength,  making  such 
dreadful  faces  the  while  that  shouts  of  laughter  rang  through 
the  amphitheatre,  and  even  the  well-brought-up  Formosante 
could  not  resist  a  smile. 

Deeply  hurt  at  his  master's  failure,  the  Grand  Almoner  of 
Egypt  hastened  to  his  side. 

'  Let  not  your  Majesty,'  he  said,  '  struggle  further  for  this 
empty  honour,  which  is  after  all  only  a  matter  of  muscles  and 
sinews.  In  the  other  tests  you  are  sure  to  be  victor.  You  will 
conquer  the  lion,  for  have  you  not  the  sabre  of  the  god  Osiris  ? 
The  Princess  of  Babylon  is  to  be  the  prize  of  the  king  who  has 
given  proofs  of  the  greatest  intelligence ;  and  numerous  are 
the  riddles  which  you  have  guessed.  Her  husband  must  be  the 
most  virtuous  of  princes.  Well,  were  you  not  the  favourite 
pupil  of  the  Egyptian  priesthood  ?  And  do  you  not  possess 
the  two  rarest  objects  in  the  world,  the  bull  Apis  and  the 
book  of  Hermes  ?  No  ;  you  are  quite  safe.  There  is  no  one 
to  dispute  with  you  the  hand  of  the  Princess  Formosante.' 

'  You  are  right,'  answered  the  king,  and  seated  himself 
on  his  throne. 

The  bow  was  next  delivered  to  the  King  of  India,  who 


THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON  233 

spent  fifteen  days  in  vainly  trying  to  draw  it,  and  when  he 
failed  as  hopelessly  as  the  King  of  Egypt  had  done  before  him, 
consoled  himself  with  thinking  that  the  King  of  Scythia 
would  fare  no  better  than  they. 

But  he  was  wrong.  The  King  of  Scythia  had  passed  his 
whole  life  in  shooting  with  bows  and  arrows,  whereas  the  other 
two  kings  had  only  begun  to  practise  when  they  heard  of  the 
conditions  to  be  fulfilled  by  the  husband  of  Formosante. 
When  therefore  the  Scythian  monarch  grasped  the  bow,  there 
was  an  eager  rustle  amongst  the  five  hundred  thousand  in  the 
amphitheatre.  They  leaned  forward  with  straining  eyes,  and 
held  their  breath  like  one  man,  as  they  perceived  a  slight 
movement  of  the  bow.  The  king's  heart  beat  high  as  he 
felt  it  quiver  under  his  hands,  but,  pull  as  hard  as  he  might,  he 
could  not  bend  it  further.  A  sigh  of  disappointment  swept 
through  the  audience,  partly  for  him  and  partly  for  the  princess. 

'  At  this  rate  she  will  never  be  married,'  they  groaned. 

Then  the  young  stranger  left  his  seat  and  went  up  to  the 
King  of  Scythia. 

'  Do  not  be  surprised,'  he  said,  '  if  your  Majesty  has 
not  been  entirely  successful.  These  bows  are  made  in  my 
country,  and  there  is  a  certain  knack  in  drawing  them. 
You  have  won  a  greater  triumph  in  bending  it  even  a  little 
than  I  should  have  done  in  drawing  it  altogether.' 

As  he  spoke  he  picked  up  an  arrow  and;  fitting  it  into 
the  string  of  the  bow,  drew,  without  any  apparent  effort, 
the  cord  to  his  ear,  and  the  arrow  flew  out  of  sight  beyond 
the  barrier. 

At  this  spectacle  a  shout  broke  from  half  a  million  throats. 
The  walls  of  Babylon  rang  with  cries  of  joy,  and  the  women 
murmured  : 

'  What  a  comfort  that  such  a  handsome  young  man  should 
have  so  much  strength  !  '  and  waited  with  great  interest  to  see 
what  would  happen  next. 

Well,  this  happened  which  nobody  expected  at  all.  The 
young  man  took  from  the  folds  of  his  turban  an  ivory  tablet, 
on  which  he  wrote  some  lines  addressed  to  the  princess,  with 
a  golden  needle,  telling  her  IIOAV  jealous  the  rest  of  the  world 


234  THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON 

would  be  of  the  man  who  carried  off  the  prize  for  which  so 
many  were  striving. 

To  us  who  read  them,  they  do  not  seem  perhaps  to  fulfil  the 
second  of  the  conditions  imposed,  but  the  oracle  knew  that 
to  the  person  whose  eyes  fell  on  them  for  the  first  time,  they 
would  appear  to  contain  all  the  wit  and  wisdom  of  the  world. 
So  when  the  princess  glanced  at  the  tablet  held  out  to  her  at 
the  end  of  the  bow,  she  felt  that  nothing  more  beautiful  had 
ever  been  written,  and  the  three  kings  looking  on  were  rooted 
to  the  ground  in  astonishment  and  disgust. 

Meanwhile  King  Belus,  having  consulted  his  magicians, 
declared  that  although  neither  of  the  three  kings  could  bend 
the  bow,  his  daughter  must  nevertheless  be  married,  and  that 
they  would  now  go  on  to  the  next  test,  which  was  the 
slaying  of  the  Hon.  The  Pharaoh,  who  had  been  educated  in 
all  the  learning  of  his  country,  replied  that  it  really  was  too 
ridiculous  to  expect  a  king  to  expose  himself  to  the  fury  of 
wild  beasts  in  order  to  obtain  a  bride,  and  that  though  no 
one  had  a  greater  admiration  for  the  princess  Formosante 
than  he,  yet  if  he  were  slain  by  the  lion,  he  would  not  be  able 
to  marry  her  any  the  more.  This  was  quite  true,  and  the 
King  of  India  entirely  agreed  with  him.  Indeed,  they  went 
so  far  as  to  say  that  King  Belus  was  making  a  jest  of  them, 
and  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  bring  large  armies  from 
their  respective  kingdoms  in  order  to  punish  him.  When 
between  them  they  had  dethroned  him,  they  could  then  draw 
lots  for  Formosante. 

Thus  grumbling,  they  each  sent  off  a  messenger  ordering 
a  levy  of  three  hundred  thousand  men  to  be  raised  without 
delay. 

The  King  of  Scythia,  however,  gave  utterance  to  no  com- 
plaints, but  descended  into  the  arena,  a  curved  sword  in  his 
hand.  Not  that  he  was  desperately  in  love  with  the  beautiful 
Formosante  ;  it  was  a  passion  for  glory  and  for  no  woman 
which  had  brought  him  to  Babylon,  and  when  he  saw  that 
his  two  rivals  had  no  intention  of  fighting  the  lion,  he  was 
filled  with  delight.  He  was  not  afraid  of  any  lion  that  trod 


THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON  235 

the  earth  ;  of  course,  he  might  not  be  able  to  kill  it,  and  it 
might  even  kill  him,  but  after  all,  a  man  could  only  die  once. 
The  lion,  when  he  rushed  out  from  his  cage,  looked  capable  of 
swallowing  all  three  kings  at  one  mouthful,  so  large  and  fierce 
was  he.  But  the  King  of  Scythia  stood  firm  and  plunged  his 
sword  at  the  beast's  throat.  Unluckily  the  point  of  it  hit 
against  his  teeth  and  broke  into  splinters,  and  the  lion,  with 
a  roar  which  shook  the  amphitheatre  to  its  foundation,  buried 
his  claws  deep  in  the  thighs  of  his  enemy.  Another  minute 
and  all  would  have  been  over,  had  not  the  young  stranger 
leapt  to  the  king's  side,  and,  seizing  a  sword  from  the  belt  of 
an  attendant,  cut  off  the  lion's  head  at  a  single  blow.  He 
next  produced  a  little  box  of  ointment,  which  he  begged  the 
king  to  rub  into  his  wounds. 

'  It  was  only  an  accident,'  he  said,  '  that  prevented  you 
from  vanquishing  the  lion,  and  your  courage  is  still  as  un- 
tarnished as  if  he  lay  dead  at  your  feet.' 

These  words  pleased  the  king  even  more  than  the  ointment 
which  was  to  cure  his  hurts  ;  and  full  of  gratitude  he  returned 
to  his  tent. 

Left  alone  in  the  arena,  the  stranger  turned  to  his  attendant, 
and  bade  him  wash  the  lion's  head  in  the  stream  that  ran 
below  the  amphitheatre,  and,  when  that  was  done,  to  take  out 
the  teeth  of  the  beast,  and  put  in  their  place  diamonds  of  the 
same  size,  which  he  produced  from  his  sash.  As  soon  as  all 
was  ready  the  young  man  said  to  the  bird  which  had  remained 
perched  on  his  shoulder:  'Fair  bird,  I  wish  you  to  carry 
the  head  of  this  lion,  and  lay  it  at  the  feet  of  Formosante.' 

So  the  bird  carried  the  lion's  head,  bowing  himself  low 
before  her  as  he  placed  it  on  the  ground,  and  the  diamonds 
in  the  mouth  shone  so  brightly  that  the  whole  court  was 
dazzled  with  their  brilliance.  Indeed ,  the  bird  itself  was  hardly 
less  wonderful,  with  his  beak  of  coral  and  his  claws  of  silver 
mixed  with  purple.  No  peacock  possessed  so  splendid  a  tail, 
and  though  his  size  was  that  of  an  eagle,  his  eyes  were  gentle 
as  well  as  piercing.  The  ladies  crowded  round  him  to  pat  his 
head  and  stroke  his  golden  feathers,  but  though  he  was  polite 


236  THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON 

to  them  all,  he  would  not  be  tempted  away  from  the  princess. 
Everyone  agreed  that  they  had  never  beheld  anything  like 
the  grace  with  which  he  received  the  biscuits  and  pistachio 
nuts  offered  him  by  Formosante,  or  the  elegant  gestures  with 
which  he  conveyed  them  to  his  beak. 

Meanwhile  Belus  had  been  considering  attentively  the 
diamonds  in  the  lion's  mouth  and  had  made  up  his  mind  about 
the  young  stranger. 

'  It  is  plain,'  he  said,  '  that  he  is  the  son  either  of  the  King 
of  China,  or  of  that  part  of  the  world  known  as  Europe,  or  of 
Africa,  which  is,  I  am  told,  on  the  borders  of  Egypt.  At  any 
rate,  let  a  magnificent  feast  be  prepared  for  him.'  At  the 
same  time,  he  ordered  his  equerry  to  ask  the  unknown,  with 
all  possible  respect,  who  he  was. 

The  stranger  was  about  to  answer,  when  there  suddenly 
arrived  on  the  scene  a  third  unicorn  ridden  by  a  man  very 
plainly  dressed.  He  quickly  dismounted  and,  addressing  the 
victor,  told  him  that  Ocmar,  his  father,  had  only  a  short 
time  to  live  and  that  they  must  start  at  once  if  his  son  wished 
to  see  him  alive. 

'  Let  us  go  then,'  replied  the  young  stranger  ;  then  turning 
to  the  king  he  added  :  '  Deign,  sire,  to  permit  the  princess  to 
accept  the  bird  which  I  am  leaving  behind  me.  They  are 
both  of  them  unique.'  He  bowed  to  the  king  and  to  the  spec- 
tators, and  went  down  the  marble  steps  to  where  his  unicorn 
was  waiting,  but  not  before  the  equerry  had  obtained  the  in- 
formation desired  by  Belus,  and  learned  that  the  dying  Ocmar 
was  an  old  shepherd  much  respected  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  his  home. 

Nothing  could  equal  the  surprise  of  Belus  and  his  daughter 
on  hearing  this  news.  In  fact,  the  king  refused  to  believe  it, 
and  desired  the  equerry  to  ride  after  the  stranger  at  once,  and 
find  out  more  about  him.  But  the  unicorns  went  like  the 
wind,  and  no  traces  could  be  seen  of  them,  even  from  the 
platform  of  the  highest  towers. 

Although  the  equerry  had  taken  care  that  his  words  should 
be  overheard  by  nobody  but  the  king  and  the  princess,  yet 


THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON  237 

somehow  the  news  that  the  man  who  had  fulfilled  all  the 
oracle's  conditions  was  only  a  shepherd's  son,  speedily  leaked 
out.  For  a  long  while  no  one  talked  of  anything  else,  as  is  the 
way  of  courts — and  other  places— and  it  was  generally  held  that 
it  was  a  bad  joke  of  the  attendant's,  who  ought  to  have  known 
better.  One  of  the  ladies-in-waiting  went  so  far  as  to  explain 
that  the  word  '  shepherd  '  might  actually  mean  a  king,  because 
kings  were  set  to  guard  their  flocks  ;  but  she  found  no  one  to 
agree  with  her.  As  to  Formosante,  she  never  said  anything 
at  all,  but  sat  silently  stroking  her  bird. 

King  Belus  did  not  know  what  to  do,  and  as  always 
happened  on  these  occasions  he  summoned  his  council,  though 
he  never  paid  any  attention  to  what  they  said,  or  would  have 
said,  had  they  not  known  it  to  be  useless.  He  talked  to  them 
for  some  time  and  at  length  decided  that  he  would  at  once  go 
and  consult  the  oracle  as  to  his  best  course,  and  return  to 
tell  them  the  result. 

When  he  entered  the  council  chamber  after  a  very  short 
absence,  he  looked  puzzled  and  crestfallen. 

'  The  oracle  declares  that  my  daughter  will  never  be  married 
till  she  has  travelled  all  over  the  world,'  said  he.  '  But  how  can 
a  princess  of  Babylon,  who  never  has  stepped  beyond  the 
bounds  of  the  park,  "  travel  over  the  world  "  ?  It  is  absurd  ! 
indeed,  if  it  were  not  sacrilege  to  utter  such  things  of  an 
oracle,  I  should  say  it  was  impertinent.  Really,  the  oracle 
has  not  a  spark  of  common-sense  !  '  and  the  council  was  of 
opinion  that  it  certainly  had  not. 

Although  there  was  no  triumphant  bridegroom  to  grace  the 
feast  commanded  by  King  Belus,  it  was  held,  as  arranged,  in 
the  great  hall  where  the  turning  roof,  painted  with  stars,  caused 
you  to  feel  as  if  you  were  dining  under  the  sky.  Everything 
was  on  a  scale  of  splendour  never  before  seen  in  Babylon 
during  the  thirty  thousand  years  of  its  existence  ;  but  perhaps 
the  feast  could  hardly  be  considered  a  success,  for  the  guests 
neither  spoke  nor  ate,  so  absorbed  were  they  in  watching  the 
incomparable  manner  in  which  the  bird  flew  about  from  one 
to  another,  bearing  the  choicest  dishes  in  his  beak.  At  least. 


238  THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON 

the  only  people  who  did  speak  were  the  King  of  Scythia  and 
the  Princess  Aldee,  the  cousin  of  Formosante  and  scarcely 
less  beautiful  than  she.  To  him,  Aldee  confided  that  it  was 
she  who,  by  law,  should  have  been  Queen  of  Babylon,  but 
that  on  the  death  of  her  grandfather  his  younger  son  had 
usurped  her  father's  rights. 

'  However,'  she  ended,  in  answer  to  a  question  put  by  the 
King  of  Scythia ;  '  I  prefer  Scythia  with  you  to  Babylon's 
crown  without  you.' 

There  never  was  any  mistaking  what  Aldee  meant. 

'  But  I  will  avenge  your  father,'  cried  the  king.  '  In  two 
days  from  now  you  shall  fly  with  me  back  to  Scythia,  and 
when  I  return  it  will  be  at  the  head  of  three  hundred  thousand 
men.'  And  so  it  was  settled. 

Everyone  was  glad  to  go  to  bed  early  after  the  fatigues 
of  the  day,  and  all  slept  soundly,  except  Formosante.  She 
had  carried  the  bird  with  her,  and  placed  him  on  an  orange-tree 
which  stood  on  a  silver  tub  in  her  room,  and  bidden  him 
good-night.  But  tired  as  she  was  she  could  not  close  her  eyes, 
for  the  scenes  she  had  witnessed  in  the  arena  passed  one  by 
one  before  her.  At  length  she  could  bear  it  no  longer  : 

'  He  will  never  come  back  !    Never  !  '  she  cried,  sobbing. 

'  Yes,  he  will,  Princess,'  answered  the  bird  from  the  orange- 
tree.  '  Who,  that  has  once  seen  you,  could  live  without 
seeing  you  again  ?  ' 

Formosante  was  so  astonished  to  hear  the  bird  speak — 
and  in  the  very  best  Chaldaean — that  she  ceased  weeping 
and  drew  the  curtains. 

'  Are  you  a  magician  or  one  of  the  gods  in  the  shape  of  a 
bird  ?'  asked  she.  '  Oh  !  if  you  are  more  than  man,  send  him 
back  to  me  ! ' 

'  I  am  only  the  bird  I  seem,'  answered  the  voice  ;  '  but 
I  was  born  in  the  days  when  birds  and  beasts  of  all  sorts  talked 
familiarly  with  men.  I  held  my  peace  before  the  court 
because  I  feared  they  would  take  me  for  a  magician.' 

'  But  how  old  are  you  ?  '  she  inquired  in  amazement. 

*  Twenty-seven   thousand   nine   hundred   years   and   six 


THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON  239 

months,'  replied  the  bird.  '  Exactly  the  same  age  as  the 
change  that  takes  place  in  the  heavens  known  as  the  "  pre- 
cession of  the  equinoxes,"  but  there  are  many  creatures  now 
existing  on  the  earth  far  older  than  I.  It  is  about  twenty-two 
thousand  years  since  I  learned  Chaldsean.  I  have  always 
had  a  taste  for  it.  But  in  this  part  of  the  world  the  other 
animals  gave  up  speaking  when  men  formed  the  habit  of 
eating  them.' 

'I  never  knew  they  did  speak,'  replied  the  Princess, 
deeply  interested  in  spite  of  her  woes. 

'  Not  know  that  they  spoke  ?  Why,  the  earliest  fables  all 
begin  with  the  words  "  Once  upon  a  time  when  beasts  talked," 
but  that  is  long  ago  !  Of  course,  many  women  still  talk  to  their 
dogs,  but  the  dogs  determined  not  to  answer  them  ;  they  were 
so  angry  at  being  forced  by  whips  to  go  and  hunt  their 
brothers. 

'  There  are  besides  many  stories  which  allude  to  conversa- 
tions with  horses,  and  their  drivers  still  speak  to  them,  as  you 
know,  but  so  very  rudely  that  the  horses  which  once  loved 
men,  now  hate  the  whole  race.' 

Formosante  nodded  her  head  ;  she  had  sometimes  been 
shocked  at  the  language  of  the  Babylonian  charioteers. 

'  The  land  wrhere  dwells  my  master,'  continued  the  bird, 
'  is  perhaps  the  only  one  in  the  world  where  animals  are  treated 
with  proper  respect,  and  where,  therefore,  they  consent  to 
live  happily  with  man.' 

'  And  where  is  that  ?  '  asked  the  Princess  eagerly. 

'  It  is  in  the  country  of  the  Gangarids  beyond  the  Ganges 
that  Amazon  my  master  was  born.  He  is  no  king — indeed 
I  hardly  think  he  would  condescend  to  be  one — and,  like  his 
countrymen,  he  is  a  shepherd.  But  you  must  not  suppose 
him  to  be  one  of  the  shepherds  such  as  those  you  know,  whose 
sheep  are  usually  far  better  dressed  than  themselves.  The 
shepherds  of  the  Gangarids  own  immense  flocks,  for  it  is 
considered  one  of  the  blackest  crimes  to  kill  a  sheep — and 
their  wool,  as  fine  as  silk,  is  sought  after  all  over  the  East.  The 
soil  is  so  rich  that  corn  and  fruits  grow  for  the  asking,  while 
diamonds  can  be  chipped  from  every  rock.  They  have  no 


240  THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON 

army  and  need  none,  for  a  hundred  unicorns  can  put  to  flight 
the  largest  host  that  ever  was  assembled. 

'  And  now,  Princess,  if  you  are  to  travel  as  the  oracle 
desires,  will  you  not  give  me  the  happiness  of  guiding  you 
thither  ?  ' 

'  Oh  .  .  .  really,  I  .  .  .  ,'  answered  the  Princess. 

The  sun  was  already  rising  when  the  king  entered  his 
daughter's  room,  and  after  receiving  the  respectful  greetings 
of  the  bird  sat  down  on  her  bed.  He  did  not  seem  quite  at 
his  ease,  but  at  length  he  informed  her  that  as,  greatly  to  his 
sorrow,  the  oracle  had  decreed  that  she  was  to  go  on  a  journey 
before  her  marriage,  he  had  arranged  for  her  to  make  a 
pilgrimage  to  Araby  the  Blest  in  company  with  numerous 
attendants. 

To  the  princess,  who  had  never  been  beyond  either  the 
Euphrates  or  the  Tigris,  the  thought  of  a  journey  was  en- 
chanting. She  could  not  sit  still,  and  wandered  out  into  the 
gardens  with  her  bird  upon  her  shoulder.  The  bird,  for  his 
part,  was  scarcely  less  happy  than  she,  and  flew  from  tree  to 
tree  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight. 

Unluckily,  the  King  of  Egypt  was  strolling  about  the 
gardens  likewise,  shooting  with  bow  and  arrows  at  every- 
thing within  his  reach.  He  was  the  worst  marksman  on  the 
banks  of  the  Nile,  and  though  he  never  by  any  chance  hit  what 
he  aimed  at,  he  was  none  the  less  dangerous  for  that,  as  he 
usually  hit  something  else.  In  this  way  a  stray  shot  pierced 
the  heart  of  the  flying  bird,  who  fell,  all  bloody,  into  the  arms 
of  the  princess. 

'  Burn  my  body,'  whispered  the  bird,  '  and  see  that  you 
bear  my  ashes  to  Araby  the  Blest.  To  the  east  of  the  town 
of  Aden  spread  them  out  in  the  sun,  on  a  bed  of  cinnamon 
and  cloves.' 

So  saying  he  breathed  his  last  sigh,  leaving  Formosante 
fainting  from  grief. 

On  seeing  his  daughter's  condition,  King  Belus  was  filled 
with  anger  against  the  King  of  Egypt,  and,  not  knowing  if  the 
death  of  the  bird  might  not  be  a  bad  omen,  hurried  as  usual 


THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON  241 

to  consult  the  oracle.  For  answer,  the  voice  to  which  he  looked 
for  guidance,  declared  : 

'  Mixture  of  everything  ;  living  death  ;  loss  and  gain  ; 
infidelity  and  constancy  ;  disasters  and  happiness.'  Neither 
he  nor  his  council  could  make  any  sense  of  it,  but  he  was 
satisfied  with  having  done  his  duty. 

Formosante,  meanwhile,  had  burned  the  body  of  the  bird, 
as  he  had  desired,  and  put  his  ashes  in  a  golden  vase  from 
which  she  never  parted.  Her  next  step  was  to  order  the 
strange  beasts  brought  by  the  King  of  Egypt  to  be  put  to 
death,  and  the  mummies  thrown  into  the  river,  and  if  she 
could  have  thrown  their  master  after  them  she  would  have 
received  some  consolation  !  When  the  Egyptian  monarch 
heard  how  she  had  treated  his  offering  he  was  deeply  offended, 
and  retired  to  Egypt  to  collect  an  army  of  three  hundred 
thousand  men,  with  which  to  return  and  avenge  the  insult. 
The  King  of  India  promised  to  do  likewise,  and  the  King  of 
Scythia  (who  had  ridden  off  early  that  morning  with  Princess 
Aldee)  might  be  expected  back  about  the  same  time  with 
another  army  of  equal  size,  to  regain  his  wife's  lost  inheritance. 

Thus  when  the  King  of  Babylon  awoke  the  following 
morning,  he  found  the  palace  quite  empty.  This  he  would  not 
have  minded  for  he  was  tired  of  feasting,  but  his  fury  was 
great  at  the  news  that  the  Princess  Aldee  had  vanished  also. 
Without  losing  a  moment  he  called  together  his  council  and 
consulted  his  oracle,  but  he  only  could  extract  the  following 
words,  which  have  since  become  famous  throughout  the 
world  : 

'  If  you  don't  marry  your  daughters,  they  will  marry 
themselves.' 

Now  when  the  Egyptian  king  quitted  the  court  of  Babylon 
he  left  some  spies  behind  him,  with  orders  to  let  him  know 
the  road  taken  by  the  princess  to  reach  Araby  the  Blest. 
Therefore,  when  after  three  days'  travelling  she  stopped  at  a 
rest-house  for  a  little  repose,  she  beheld,  to  her  dismay,  the 
King  of  Egypt  following  her.  And  worse  than  that :  in  a  few 
minutes  he  had  placed  guards  before  every  door,  so  that  it  was 


242  THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON 

useless  for  her  to  attempt  to  escape  him.  For  small  though 
her  experience  of  the  world  might  be,  Formosante  was  well 
aware  that  the  Pharaoh's  vanity  had  been  deeply  wounded 
by  his  failure  in  the  matter  of  the  bow,  and  she  knew  she  could 
expect  no  mercy. 

Therefore,  on  receiving  the  king's  message  that  he  craved 
an  interview  with  her,  the  princess  saw  that  her  only  chance 
lay  in  cunning,  and,  as  soon  as  he  began  to  speak  to  her,  she 
knew  she  had  guessed  rightly.  He  addressed  her  very  roughly, 
and  told  her  that  she  was  in  his  power  ;  that  he  intended  to 
marry  her  that  evening  after  supper,  and  that  it  was  useless 
for  her  to  object  as  he  had  now  got  the  upper  hand. 

Formosante  pretended  to  be  quite  overcome  by  his 
kindness,  and  assured  him  that  in  secret  he  had  been  the 
lover  she  had  always  preferred,  although  she  was  afraid  to  say 
so.  And  she  added,  with  her  head  hanging  modestly  down, 
that  she  would  sup  with  him  that  evening  with  all  the  pleasure 
in  We,  and  hoped  he  would  deign  to  invite  his  Grand  Almoner 
also,  as  he  had  appeared  to  her  in  Babylon  to  be  a  man  full 
of  wisdom  and  learning.  Further,  that  she  had  with  her  some 
of  the  rare  and  precious  wine  of  Shiraz  which,  she  trusted,  she 
might  be  permitted  to  bring  for  his  Majesty's  use. 

So  well  did  she  act  that  the  Pharaoh  was  completely 
deceived,  and  when  the  hour  for  supper  arrived,  he  sat  down 
to  the  table  with  his  wounded  vanity  soothed  and  his  good 
temper  restored. 

Anyone  acquainted  with  the  ways  of  princesses  will  not 
need  to  be  told  that  Formosante  not  only  drugged  the  wine 
set  aside  for  the  king  and  the  almoner,  but  also  the  bottles 
which  her  maid  distributed  amongst  the  guards.  The  powder 
had  been  given  her  long  ago  by  a  magician  in  Babylon,  with 
directions  how  to  use  it.  '  If,'  he  said,  '  you  wish  it  to  take 
effect  at  once,  put  in  two  pinches.  If  in  an  hour,  one ;  if 
the  next  morning,  a  quarter  of  a  pinch.  Remember  what  I 
tell  you  ;  some  day  your  life  may  depend  on  it.' 

For  reasons  of  her  own,  Formosante  thought  it  better  to 
get  through  part  of  the  supper  before  the  king  and  his  guest 


B2 


THE  PlilNCESS  OF  BABYLON  L>45 

became  unconscious.  The  Pharaoh  was  just  then  well 
pleased  with  himself  and  everyone  else,  and  after  paying  her 
compliments  on  her  beauty  which  grew  more  ardent  as  time 
wore  on,  begged  permission  to  give  her  a  kiss. 

'  Certainly,  your  Majesty,'  answered  the  princess,  though  it 
was  the  last  thing  she  desired.  But  as  she  bent  her  forehead 
towards  him,  the  drug  did  its  work  ;  the  king  fell  back  heavily 
on  his  chair,  the  almoner  sank  sideways  to  the  ground,  and  a 
blackbird,  which  unnoticed  by  all  had  been  perched  in  a  corner, 
flew  out  through  the  window. 

Then  the  princess  rose  calmly  from  her  seat,  summoned 
her  maid,  and  mounting  two  horses  whicli  were  saddled  in 
readiness,  they  rode  strajght  to  Araby  the  Blest. 

As  soon  as  she  and  her  maid  Irla  beheld  the  town  of  Aden 
lying  before  them,  they  got  down  and  prepared,  as  the  bird 
had  bidden  them,  his  funeral  pyre  of  cinnamon  and  cloves. 
But  what  was  the  surprise  of  the  princess  when,  on  scattering 
the  ashes  on  the  little  pyre,  a  flame  suddenly  broke  forth  ! 
In  the  midst  of  the  fire  lay  an  egg,  and  out  of  the  egg  came 
her  bird,  more  brilliant  and  beautiful  than  ever  ! 

'  Take  me  to  the  country  of  the  Gangarids,'  she  gasped 
when  she  was  able  to  speak,  '  and  let  us  find  Amazan.' 

Fortunately  for  the  princess  the  bird  was  able  to  satisfy  her. 

;  Two  of  my  best  friends  among  the  griffins,'  he  said,  '  live 
not  far  from  here.  A  pigeon  shall  start  at  once  with  a  message, 
and  they  can  be  with  us  by  night.'  And  so  they  were  ;  and 
the  princess  and  Irla  did  not  lose  a  moment  in  mounting  a 
small  car  which  was  attached  to  them,  and  in  setting  out  for 
the  land  of  the  Gangarids. 

'  I  wish  to  speak  to  Amazan,'  cried  the  pha-nix,  as  soon 
as  the  grimns  halted  before  his  house.  And  it  was  as  well  that 
the  bird  was  there,  for  between  joy  and  hope  and  fatigue  the 
princess's  heart  was  fluttering  to  such  a  degree  that  she  could 
have  said  nothing. 

'  Amazan  !  '  replied  the  man  whose  crook  betokened  him 
to  be  a  shepherd  also  ;  '  he  went  away  three  hours  ago .' 

;  Ah,  that  is  what  I  feared  !  '  exclaimed  the  phcenix,  while 
the  princess  sank  back  upon  her  cushions  nearly  fainting  with 


246  THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON 

disappointment.  '  Those  three  hours  you  passed  in  the  rest- 
house,  may  have  cost  you  the  happiness  of  your  life.  But  I 
will  try  if  anything  can  be  done  to  repair  the  mischief.  We 
must  see  his  mother  at  once,'  he  added,  and  Formosante,  with 
hope  springing  anew  within  her,  followed  him  into  a  large 
room  where  the  air  was  filled  with  song,  which  proceeded 
from  the  throats  not  only  of  a  thousand  different  birds,  but 
of  shepherds  and  shepherdesses. 

The  voices  seemed  to  chime  in  with  the  melancholy  of 
the  princess,  who  rose,  trembling,  as  the  mother  of  Amazan 
entered. 

'  Ah,  give  him  back  to  me  ! '  she  cried  ;  '  for  his  sake  I  have 
quitted  the  most  brilliant  court  in  the  world,  and  have  braved 
all  kinds  of  dangers.  I  have  escaped  the  snares  of  the  King 
of  Egypt — and  now  I  find  he  has  fled  from  me.' 

'  Princess,'  answered  the  lady,  '  did  you  not  happen  to 
notice  while  you  were  at  supper  with  the  King  of  Egypt  a 
blackbird  flying  about  the  room  ?  ' 

'  Ah,  now  you  say  so,  I  do  recollect  one ! '  rejoined  the 
princess  ;  '  and  I  remember  that  when  the  king  bent  forward 
to  give  me  a  kiss,  the  bird  disappeared  through  the  window 
with  a  cry  of  anguish.' 

'  You  are  right,  alas ! '  replied  the  lady,  '  and  from  that 
moment  all  our  troubles  can  be  dated.  That  blackbird  had 
been  sent  by  my  son  to  bring  him  news  of  your  health,  as  he 
meant  as  soon  as  the  burial  ceremonies  for  his  father  had  been 
completed  to  return  and  throw  himself  at  your  feet.  For 
when  a  Gangarid  is  in  love,  he  is  in  love.  But  as  soon  as  he 
was  told  how  gay  you  seemed,  above  all,  as  soon  as  he  heard 
of  you  ready  to  accept  the  kiss  of  the  monarch  who  had  killed 
the  phoanix,  despair  filled  his  soul,  and  that  in  the  very 
moment  in  which  he  had  learned  that  he  was  your  cousin 
and  that  therefore  the  King  of  Babylon  might  be  induced  to 
listen  to  his  suit.' 

'  My  cousin  !  But  how  ?  ' 

'  Never  mind  that  now.  He  is  your  cousin  !  But  I  feared 
he  would  never  survive  the  news  of  the  kiss  which  you  had 
given  to  the  King  of  Egypt.' 


THE  PRINCESS  OF  BABYLON  247 

'  Oh,  my  aunt,  if  you  could  only  understand  !  '  cried  the 
princess,  wringing  her  hands.  '  I  dared  not  excite  the  king's 
suspicions  or  I  should  never  have  escaped  !  I  swear  it  by  the 
ashes  and  the  soul  of  the  phoenix  which  were  then  in  my 
pocket !  Tell  her,  Bird  of  Wisdom,  that  what  I  say  is  true.' 

'  It  is  !  It  is  !  '  exclaimed  the  phoenix  eagerly.  '  But  now 
what  we  have  to  do  is  to  go  in  search  of  Amazan.  I  will 
despatch  unicorns  in  all  directions,  and  I  hope  before  many 
hours  to  be  able  to  tell  you  where  he  is.' 

The  phoenix  was  as  good  as  his  word.  At  length  one  of  the 
unicorns  learned  that  Amazan  was  in  China.  Without  losing 
a  moment  they  set  out,  and  arrived,  travelling  through  the  air, 
in  the  short  space  of  eight  days,  but  only  to  find  that  they 
had  again  missed  him  by  a  few  hours.  The  emperor  would 
gladly  have  kept  Formosante  to  show  her  the  wonders  of  his 
country,  but  as  soon  as  he  heard  her  story  and  how  all  this 
misery  had  its  root  in  a  kiss  given  out  of  pure  fidelity,  he  saw 
that  the  one  thing  he  could  do  for  the  princess  was  to  discover 
for  her  the  road  which  Amazan  had  taken. 

From  that  day  began  a  series  of  journeys  such  as  no 
Babylonish  princess  had  ever  gone  through  during  the  thirty 
thousand  years  of  the  monarchy.  There  was  not  a  kingdom 
either  in  Asia  or  in  Europe  that  Formosante  did  not  visit,  and 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  had  no  room  in  her  mind  for  any 
thought  except  the  finding  of  Amazan  (who  had  invariably 
left  but  a  few  hours  before),  she  was  forced  to  pick  up  some 
new  ideas  on  the  way.  Strange  things  she  saw  which  her 
father,  King  Belus,  would  never  have  believed  to  exist :  a 
country  in  which  the  young  king  had  made  an  agreement 
with  his  subjects  that  the  farmer  and  the  noble  might  sit  side 
by  side  and  make  their  own  laws  ;  another  kingdom  in  which 
one  man  had  power  to  prevent  any  law  from  being  passed  by 
the  rest  of  the  assembly  ;  a  third  in  which  the  will  of  one 
queen  had  changed  the  face  of  the  world  as  if  by  magic,  though, 
perhaps,  if  the  princess  had  returned  for  a  second  visit,  she 
might  not  have  felt  so  certain  that  the  changes  would  last. 
Once  it  was  only  a  thick  fog  off  an  island  called  Albion  which 


248  THE  PEINCE8S  OF  BABYLON 

prevented  her  vessel  from  meeting  the  one  containing  Amazan, 
but  at  length  they  both  found  themselves  in  a  province 
bordering  on  the  Mediterranean,  where  Formosante,  driven 
to  despair  by  a  rumour  that  Amazan  was  faithless  to  her,  was 
looking  out  for  a  ship  that  might  take  her  to  Babylon. 

As  usual,  she  trusted  to  the  phoenix  to  make  all  her  arrange- 
ments, and  the  people  in  whose  house  she  was  living  having 
overheard  the  bird  speaking  to  her,  at  once  imagined  she  was 
a  witch  and  locked  her  and  her  maid  Irla  in  their  rooms. 
They  would  have  seized  the  phoenix  also,  but  at  the  sound  of 
the  key  being  turned  he  quickly  flew  out  of  the  window  and 
started  in  search  of  Amazan.  After  these  long  months  of 
wandering  the  bird  and  its  master  met  on  the  road  which 
runs  from  north  to  south,  and  at  first  then*  joy  was  such  that 
even  the  princess  was  forgotten.  But  not  for  long. 

'  And  Formosante,  where  is  she  ?  ' 

'  A  prisoner,  alas  !  on  suspicion  of  being  a  witch,  and  you 
know  what  that  means,'  answered  the  phoenix,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes. 

Amazan  didknow,  and  for  an  instant  was  frozen  with  horror 
as  the  vision  flashed  across  his  mind  of  Formosante  tied  to  a 
stake  and  the  flames  gathering  round  her.  Then  he  aroused 
himself,  and  gave  the  phoenix  some  orders.  In  two  hours 
help  came,  and  Amazan  was  kneeling  at  the  feet  of  the  princess. 

So,  united  at  last,  we  will  leave  them. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  FIRE-D1ULUX 

HERE  is  another  story  of  the  Tlingit  Indians,  and  in  these 
stories  you  will  often  find  the  Raven  playing  the  part  of 
friend  and  helper,  just  as  the  Fox  does  in  Japan,  and  Brer 
Rabbit  in  '  Uncle  Remus.'  The  Raven  is  always  kinder  than 
anybody  else,  besides  being  cleverer,  and  those  who  take  his 
advice  can  never  go  wrong. 

One  day  the  Raven  was  flying  about,  and  he  saw  a  girl 
sitting  with  her  baby  in  the  woods,  and  he  stopped  to  talk 
to  her. 

*  That  is  a  fine  little  boy  of  yours,'  he  said,  cocking  his  head 
on  one  side. 

'  Yes,  he  is,'  replied  the  girl ;  '  but  I  wish  he  was  old 
enough  to  get  food  for  us.  It  is  so  many  years  to  wait.' 

'  That  is  easily  cured,'  said  the  Raven.  '  You  have  only 
to  bathe  him  every  day  in  the  cold  spring  at  the  back  of  these 
rocks,  and  you  have  no  idea  how  quickly  he  will  grow  up.' 
So  the  girl  bathed  him  every  morning  in  the  pool  and  let  the 
water  from  the  rock  pour  over  him,  and  it  was  surprising 
how  soon  he  was  able  to  help  her  in  work  of  all  kinds  as  well 
as  to  shoot  with  his  bow  and  arrows. 

'  Why  are  we  all  alone  with  grandmother  ?'  he  inquired  at 
last,  for  he  was  fond  of  asking  questions.  '  Did  you  never  have 
friends  like  other  people,  and  have  those  houses  over  there 
always  stood  empty  ?  '  Then  they  told  him  that  once  a  large 
tribe  had  lived  at  that  place,  but  they  had  gradually  gone 
away  to  hunt  or  to  fish  and  had  never  come  back.  Only  the 
woman  and  the  girl  and  the  baby  remained  behind. 

After  this  the  boy  was  quiet  for  a  time,  and  for  a  while  he 
was  content  to  stay  at  home,  only  going  out  in  the  mornings 
249 


250  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  FIRE-DRILL'S  SON 

to  bring  back  a  bird  from  the  forest  for  their  dinner.  But 
at  length  he  said  to  his  mother  :  '  If  I  could  only  paddle  in  the 
lake,  I  could  catch  you  fish  and  water-fowl ;  but  all  the  canoes 
here  are  old  and  broken.' 

'  Yes  ;  you  must  not  go  out  in  them.  You  will  get  drowned,' 
answered  she,  and  the  boy  went  sadly  to  his  mat  to  sleep. 

As  he  slept,  his  father,  whose  name  was  Fire-drill,  appeared 
to  him  and  spoke  : 

'  Take  one  of  those  old  canoes  into  the  woods  and  cover 
it  with  bushes.  It  does  not  matter  how  worn-out  it  seems  to 
be ;  do  as  I  tell  you.'  Then  the  boy  got  up  and  did  as  his 
father  bade  him,  and  went  home  again. 

Early  next  day  he  ran  quickly  to  the  place  where  the 
canoe  was  hidden,  but  found  that  the  old  one  full  of  holes 
had  vanished,  and  a  new  one,  packed  with  everything  he 
could  need,  was  in  its  place.  While  he  was  admiring  it,  his 
father  stood  before  him,  and  pulled  the  root  of  a  burnt 
tree  out  of  the  ground,  which  he  turned  into  a  little  dog.  It 
was  called  Gant  or  '  Burnt,'  and  could  smell  things  miles 
away,  and,  though  it  was  so  small,  it  was  as  strong  as  a  bear. 
After  that,  Fire-drill  gave  his  son  a  fresh  bow  and  arrows  and 
a  great  club. 

Then  the  boy  remembered  what  his  grandmother  had 
said,  and  he  carried  the  canoe  and  his  father's  presents  to  the 
wigwam. 

'  I  am  going  away,'  he  told  his  mother,  '  and  may  be  absent 
two  days  or  much  longer.  Take  care  of  this  fire-stick,  or 
else  if  the  fire  goes  out,  how  will  you  make  it  again  ?  Hang  it 
in  a  safe  place  high  on  the  ceiling,  and  if  I  am  killed,  it  will 
fall.  So  you  will  know.  And  now  farewell.'  Thus  speaking 
he  climbed  into  the  canoe  and  pushed  off. 

As  he  went  he  saw  from  afar  another  canoe  coming  to 
meet  him,  with  a  man  paddling  it. 

'That  is  the  man  who  killed  all  my  mother's  friends,' 
thought  he,  and  he  told  it  to  his  dog,  his  club,  his  bow  and 
his  arrows,  for  they  had  the  gift  of  magic  and  could  understand 
his  language. 


l*r>:' 


GlRI,    BATHED    HIM    KVKRY    MORNIMi    IN    THK     I'ddl.. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  FIRE-DRILL'S  SON  251 

By  this  time  the  man  had  drawn  near,  and  the  boy  saw 
that  he  had  only  one  eye,  which  was  placed  in  the  middle 
of  his  face,  and  that  he  was  more  than  commonly  tall. 

'  Is  it  you,  my  nephew  ?  '  asked  he,  and  the  boy  answered  : 

'  Yes  ;  it  is  I.' 

'  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  ' 

'  From  my  uncle's  village.' 

Then  the  man  read  what  the  boy  had  in  his  mind  and 
said : 

'  It  was  not  I  who  killed  your  uncles  and  your  mother's 
friends  ;  it  was  the  East  Wind  and  the  North  Wind.' 

But  the  boy  did  not  trust  the  man's  words,  and  knew 
that  in  his  heart  he  wished  him  evil.  And  while  he  was 
thinking  this  the  big  man  said  to  him  : 

'  Let  us  exchange  arrows.' 

'  Not  so,'  replied  the  boy.  '  My  arrows  are  better  than 
yours.'  And  his  words  were  true,  for  they  were  all  different, 
and  pointed  with  different  things.  The  point  of  one  was  a 
porcupine  quill,  and  of  another  bark,  but  the  best  of  all  was 
called  Heart-stopper,  because  the  moment  it  touched  a  man's 
body  his  heart  ceased  to  beat. 

'  My  arrows  are  pointed  with  sea-urchins  ;  behold  how  they 
move,'  said  the  man ;  but  again  it  was  not  true  what  he  told 
the  boy,  for  the  points  were  made  of  weed. 

'  My  arrows  are  not  like  that,'  answered  the  boy.  '  They 
are  only  good  for  shooting  birds  ; '  but  though  he  did  not  trust 
the  man,  he  never  guessed  that  his  desire  was  to  get  Heart- 
stopper.  They  talked  for  some  time  longer,  and  at  length 
the  boy  lost  patience  and  cried  out  : 

'  You  call  yourself  my  uncle,  yet  you  made  away  with  my 
mother's  friends.  Now  know  that  you  will  never  make  away 
with  me  like  that.' 

His  words  angered  the  one-eyed  man,  and,  quick  as 
lightning,  they  both  held  their  arrows  in  their  hands  ;  but  the 
boy  was  the  quickest,  and  with  the  help  of  the  dog,  soon  killed 
his  enemy.  Then  he  burned  the  body,  and  paddled  on 
still  further,  never  thinking  that  his  mother  at  home  was 
wondering  why  he  did  not  come  back. 


252     THE  ADVENTURES  OF  FIRE-DRILL'S  SON 

At  last  he  heard  a  voice  calling  to  him.  '  That  is  another 
bad  man,'  said  he  ;  but  he  paddled  to  the  place  where  the 
sound  came  from,  and  found  a  cliff  rising  straight  out  of  the 
water.  In  the  middle  of  the  cliff  was  an  opening  with  a  circle 
of  red  paint  round  it,  and  devil-clubs  fastened  to  a  ring  which 
was  driven  into  the  rock. 

'  Come  in  !  Come  in  !  '  cried  the  voice,  and  the  boy  entered 
and  saw  a  woman  there  with  a  knife  in  each  hand.  He  guessed 
who  she  was,  and  said  to  her  : 

'  I  have  seen  your  husband ; '  but  she  took  no  heed  of  his 
words,  and  begged  him  again  to  enter  and  she  would  give  him 
some  food  before  he  went  on  his  way. 

'  I  do  not  like  that  sort  of  food,'  he  answered  as  soon  as  he 
had  seen  it ;  and  she  exclaimed,  '  Well !  if  you  want  to  quarrel 
let  us  fight  till  one  of  us  is  killed.' 

*  Willingly  !  '  replied  the  boy,  and  he  heard  her  go  to  the 
rock  at  the  entrance  and  sharpen  the  knives  in  her  hands. 
When  she  had  finished  she  threw  one  of  them  at  him,  but  he 
jumped  aside  and  it  stuck  in  the  stool  where  he  had  been 
sitting.  Then  he  seized  the  knife  and  threw  it  at  her,  and  it 
stuck  in  her  heart  and  she  died.  He  let  her  He  where  she  fell, 
and  lifting  his  eyes  he  noticed  with  dismay  that  the  hole  at 
the  end  of  the  cave  was  quickly  growing  smaller  and  smaller. 
Hastily  he  snatched  up  some  ermine  skins  that  lay  on  the 
ground  and  tied  two  or  three  in  his  hair,  and  shrank  himself 
till  he  managed  to  get  into  one  of  them,  and  squeezed  through 
the  entrance  just  before  it  closed  entirely.  Once  out  of: 
the  cave  he  shot  some  deer  and  brought  them  down  in  hi*, 
canoe  to  his  mother  and  his  grandmother,  who  had  spent 
their  time  in  grieving  over  him  and  wondering  if  they  would 
ever  see  him  again. 

'  I  am  all  right,'  he  said  to  them  when  he  got  home  ;  '  and 
I  have  slain  the  people  who  put  your  friends  to  death.' 

But  in  spite  of  his  words,  he  did  not  know  yet  for  certain 
whether  the  man  and  woman  he  had  killed  had  been  the 
murderers  of  his  uncles  also,  and  that  he  was  determined  to 
find  out.  So  he  soon  went  back  into  the  forest  and  began 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  FIRE-DRILUS  SON  253 

hunting  again.  From  afar  he  saw  smoke  rising  up,  and  he 
walked  towards  it  till  he  came  to  a  house.  At  the  door  was 
Old  Mole-woman,  and  very  old  she  was,  but  her  face  looked 
kind  and  honest  and  the  boy  felt  he  might  have  faith  in  her. 

'  What  is  it  you  want,  grandson  ?  '  said  she,  politely,  and 
the  boy  answered  : 

1 1  am  seeking  for  the  slayer  of  my  uncles.' 

'  It  is  not  easy  to  get  at  them,'  she  replied.  '  It  was  the 
hawks  that  did  it,  and  first  you  have  to  find  their  nests  which 
are  very  high  up,  and  next  you  must  wait  till  the  old  birds  go 
away,  and  only  the  young  ones  are  left.' 

Thus  spoke  Old  Mole- woman,  and  the  boy  thanked  her 
and  set  off  to  find  the  nests. 

It  took  him  a  long  time,  but  at  length  he  discovered  them  ; 
then  he  hid  himself  and  waited  till  the  parent  birds  flew  off 
and  the  young  ones  were  alone.  After  that,  the  boy  came  out 
of  his  hiding-place  and  climbed  up  the  tree  and  said  to  the 
little  birds  : 

'  What  do  you  live  on  ? '  and  the  little  birds  led  him 
to  a  place  that  was  full  of  human  skulls,  and  answered,  '  That 
is  what  we  live  on.' 

'  How  long  will  your  father  and  mother  be  away  ? '  asked 
the  boy. 

'  Till  daybreak  ;  but  you  will  not  be  able  to  see  them, 
because  they  come  in  clouds.  My  mother  flies  over  the 
mountain  in  a  yellow  cloud,  and  my  father  in  a  black  cloud.' 

'  Well,  I  am  going  now,'  said  the  boy, '  and  take  care  that 
you  do  not  tell  them  that  I  have  been  here,  or  I  will  kill  you.' 

'  Oh,  no,  no  !  We  will  be  sure  not  to  tell,'  cried  the  little 
birds,  fluttering  their  wings  in  a  fright. 

Just  as  it  was  getting  light  the  boy  saw  the  yellow  cloud 
coming,  and  by  and  bye  he  made  out  the  mother-bird  cany  ing 
a  dead  body  in  her  beak.  He  aimed  an  arrow  at  her  and  she 
fell  dead  at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  and  the  body  fell  with  her. 
Soon  after,  he  saw  the  black  cloud  coming  fast,  and  when  it 
reached  the  nest  the  father  flew  out  of  it  and  said  to  the  little 
ones  : 

'  Where  is  vour  mother  ? ' 


254     THE  ADVENTURES  OF  F I  RE-DEI  LUS  SON 


'  Our  mother  dropped  the  body  she  was  carrying  and  fell 
down  after  it,'  answered  they,  and  as  they  spoke  the  boy  hit 
him  with  an  arrow,  and  he  fell  to  the  ground  also. 

Then  the  boy  cried  up  to  the  little  birds :  '  You  must  never 
kill  people  any  more,  or  live  on  human  flesh.  I  will  go  and 
get  food  for  you  until  you  are  strong  enough  to  look  after 
yourselves,'  and  he  went  out  hunting,  and  he  and  his  dog 
killed  some  pigs  and  brought  them  to  the  little  birds.  And 
when  the  little  birds  grew  to  be  big  birds,  they  killed  the  pigs 
for  themselves  by  letting  stones  fall  on  their  heads,  and  never 
more  did  they  eat  anything  else.  After  that  the  boy  went 
back  to  Old  Mole-woman. 

'  I  have  killed  the  birds,'  said  he,  '  and  because  you  have 
helped  me,  I  have  brought  you  some  food  which  will  last 
you  a  long  time.  Now  I  must  hurry  home  to  my  mother  and 
grandmother.' 

Very  glad  they  were  to  see  him  again,  and  for  some 
time  he  stayed  with  them  and  collected  grease  for  candles 
and  provisions  of  all  sorts,  enough  to  last  for  many,  many 
years.  When  this  was  done  he  said  to  his  mother  :  '  Mother, 
I  am  going  to  leave  you  for  ever,  for  I  was  not  meant  to  be 
with  you  always,  and  I  have  finished  that  which  I  set  myself 
to  do.  If  what  is  hanging  overhead  should  fall,  you  will 
know  that  I  am  dead.  But  as  long  as  it  remains  where  it  is, 
do  not  trouble  about  me.' 

With  that  he  went  out. 

As  he  walked  along  the  path,  the  son  of  Fire-drill  beheld 
someone  in  front  striding  very  fast ;  and  the  boy  chased  him 
till  he  came  first  to  the  Mink  people  and  then  to  the  Marten 
people.  Both  of  them  begged  him  to  stay  with  them  and 
help  them,  but  he  would  not,  and  hurried  on  after  the  figure 
he  had  seen  ahead  of  him,  whose  name  was  Dry-cloud.  But 
when  Fire-drill's  son  came  to  the  Wolf  people  they  begged 
him  so  hard  to  stop  that  at  last  he  agreed  to  do  so  for  a  while ; 
besides  he  was  very  tired,  and  wanted  to  rest. 

The  Wolf  Chief  thought  much  of  the  boy,  and  they  had 
great  talk  together.  One  day  a  large  company  of  the  Wolf 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  FIRE -DRILL'S  SON     255 

tribe  was  present,  and  they  spoke  of  the  beasts  which  could 
run  the  fastest. 

'  The  swiftest  of  all  is  the  mountain  goat,'  said  one  ;  '  and 
I  it  can  jump  from  rock  to  rock,  and  none  can  come  up  with  it. 
To-morrow,'  he  added,  turning  to  the  boy,  'we  are  going  to 
hunt  them,  and  if  you  are  there  with  us  you  will  see  if  there 
is  any  animal  that  can  outrun  a  mountain  goat.' 

'  I  will  be  there,'  answered  the  boy. 

So  they  started  in  the  morning  and  hastened  to  the  place, 
and  each  tried  to  be  the  first  to  kill  one  of  the  goats.  But 
Fire-drill's  son's  dog  got  there  before  any  of  them,  and  killed 
many  goats  and  the  rest  galloped  away  out  of  reach.  Then 
the  Wolves  went  up  and  carried  the  dead  goats  back  to 
their  people,  and  much  ashamed  they  were  that  the  dog 
had  slain  them  all  and  they,  the  noted  hunters,  had  got 
nothing. 

'  Men  will  speak  ill  of  us  if  they  know  of  this  day's  work,' 
said  the  Wolves,  whispering  together.  '  How  can  we  get 
the  better  of  this  son  of  Fire-drill  ? ' 

Now  one,  cleverer  than  the  rest,  thought  of  a  plan,  and 
he  bade  the  others  cut  a  quantity  of  the  long  stringy  creepers 
that  grow  on  the  mountains,  and  make  them  into  hoops. 
These  hoops  they  were  to  roll  down  the  sides  of  the  mountains, 
and  jump  backwards  and  forwards  through  them,  when  they 
were  at  full  speed.  It  was  a  good  game  for  their  purpose, 
because  anyone  who  touched  the  side  of  the  hoops  would  be 
cut  in  two,  because  of  the  sharp  edges. 

But  the  dog  guessed  this,  and  said  to  the  boy  :  '  Friend,  do 
not  go  near  those  people  who  are  playing.  You  know  nothing 
of  the  game,  and  those  things  may  kill  you.' 

'  No ;  I  will  not  play  with  them,  but  let  us  watch  them,' 
answered  the  boy,  and  they  watched  them  for  some  time,  till 
the  boy  said  to  the  dog : 

'  You  take  one  of  those  rings  and  throw  it  up  in  the  air  as 
high  as  you  can.'  And  the  dog  took  it  in  his  mouth,  and 
stood  on  his  hind  legs  and  threw  it  upwards  with  all  his 
might,  and  he  threw  it  so  high  that  it  never  came  down 
again  but  stayed  up  round  the  moon,  where  you  may  still 


256     THE  ADVENTURES  OF  FIRE-DRILL'S  SON 

see  it  any  night  that  there  is  going  to  be  a  change  in  thrf; 
weather. 

And  as  soon  as  he  heard  this  that  the  dog  had  done,  the 
Wolf  Chief  called  the  rest  of  the  Wolves,  and  bade  them 
treat  the  son  of  Fire-drill  as  a  friend,  '  for,'  said  he,  '  he  is  af 
wonderful  fellow.' 

A  little  wliile  after,  Fire-drill's  son  and  the  wolf  went  away 
together.     When  they  had  gone  a   short  distance,  the  wolf '1 
raised  his  head  and  looked  about  him. 

'  Some  strange  creature  walks  about  here,'  he  exclaimed  I 
suddenly.  '  Take  my  advice  and  do  not  try  to  follow  him.  I 
or  he  will  have  your  life.' 

And  though  he  did  not  say  so,  the  boy  felt  it  was  Dry-cloud 
that  the  wolf  meant. 

'  Don't  be  afraid  for  me,'  he  answered  ;  '  I  only  play  with 
him.  Well  I  know  that  it  is  impossible  to  kill  him,  but  it  is 
also  impossible  for  him  to  kill  me  ;  but  follow  him  I  must,  for 
this  my  father  bade  me.' 

So  they  set  off  after  Dry-cloud,  and  curious  to  say,  the 
swift-footed  wolf  was  forced  to  run  with  all  his  might,  while^j 
the  boy  did  not  seem  to  himself  to  be  walking  faster  than^l 
usual.  Indeed,  so  rapid  was  their  pace  that  if  in  crossing 
a  stream  the  wolf  got  his  tail  wet,  he  was  too  tired  to  shake  it 
himself,  and  he  cried  till  the  boy  shook  it  for  him.  In  this 
manner  they  travelled  till  they  came  to  a  house  where  an  old 
woman  lived,  and  this  was  the  end  of  their  journey  for  that 
time,  as  Dry-cloud  lived  near  by  also  and  they  could  watch 
him  in  peace.  And  while  they  were  there  Fire-drill's  son  saw  a 
girl  whom  he  thought  he  would  like  for  his  squaw,  and  he 
married  her  and  they  had  a  baby.  But  when  the  baby  was 
born  the  father  shook  his  head  and  said  to  his  wife : 

'  This  is  going  to  be  a  very  bad  boy.' 

And  the  fire-stick  is  still  hanging  on  his  mother's  ceiling. 

[Tlingit  story.] 


THE  STRANGE  STORY  OF  ELIZABETH  CANNING 

AKE  you  fond  of  puzzles  ?  I  am.  And  here  is  a  mystery 
which  all  sorts  of  people  have  been  seeking  to  explain  for  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years,  and  nobody,  not  even  the  lawyers  who 
have  studied  it,  can  make  up  their  minds.  So  now  it  is  your 
turn  to  try. 

In  the  year  1752  Elizabeth  Canning  was  a  girl  of  seventeen, 
the  eldest  of  a  family  of  five  children.  Her  mother  was  a 
widow  and  very  poor,  so  she  was  glad  when  Elizabeth  or 
Betty,  as  her  friends  called  her,  was  old  enough  to  go  out  to 
service.  Betty  was  a  steady,  hard-working  young  woman,  and 
the  neighbours  who  had  known  her  from  a  baby  were  all 
ready  to  help  her  and  to  get  her  a  suitable  place. 

Her  first  master  was  a  respectable  man  who  kept  a  tavern, 
and  in  his  house  she  lived  for  eighteen  months.  But  she 
did  not  serve  the  customers,  or  come  into  the  rooms  where 
they  drank.  She  then  left  to  go  as  servant  to  a  carpenter 
and  his  wife  named  Lyon,  in  Aldermanbury  in  the  City  of 
London,  not  very  far  from  her  own  home.  The  Lyons  were 
also  old  acquaintances  of  Mrs.  Canning,  and  had  known 
Elizabeth  since  she  was  two.  Now  she  was  grown  up  ;  a 
rather  short,  pleasant-looking  girl  with  a  fresh  complexion 
marked  with  small-pox,  but  not  pretty. 

Elizabeth  had  been  with  the  Lyons  for  three  months,  and 
had  pleased  them  so  well  that  they  promised  her  a  holiday  on 
New  Year's  Day  1753,  to  go  to  see  her  uncle  and  aunt,  living 
behind  the  London  Docks.  So  on  New  Year's  Day,  the  girl 
got  up  earlier  than  usual,  in  order  to  get  her  work  over  as 
soon  as  possible.  When  everything  was  done,  she  went  up  to 
her  attic  and  took  her  best  clothes  out  of  a  chest.  She  was 
a  long  time  dressing,  but  when  she  stepped  out  into  the  street, 
257  s 


258    STRANGE  STORY  OF  ELIZABETH  CANNING 

she  felt  herself  as  smart  as  any  maid  in  London  in  her  purple 
gown,  black  petticoat,  white  apron,  a  muslin  handkerchief 
folded  across  her  chest,  blue  stockings,  and  neat  leather  shoes. 
On  her  head  she  wore  a  small,  flat,  white  chip  hat  bound  with 
green. 

On  her  way  to  the  Docks  she  stopped  at  her  mother's, 
and  said  that  as  she  had  in  her  pocket  thirteen  shillings 
given  her  that  morning  by  her  mistress — probably  they  were 
her  wages — she  would  ask  her  aunt  Mrs.  Colley  to  come  out 
with  her  and  buy  a  cloak.  Mrs.  Canning  made  her  put  the 
half-guinea  in  a  box,  as  so  small  a  thing  might  easily  get  lost, 
and  then,  after  presenting  each  of  the  children  with  a  penny  a 
piece,  except  a  naughty  little  brother  who  had  '  huffed  her,' 
she  gaily  bade  them  all  good-bye  and  went  her  way,] 
arriving  at  her  uncle's  house  about  twelve  o'clock.  Here  she 
had  dinner,  tea,  and  supper  at  seven  when  her  uncle  returned 
from  work — for  Colley,  poor  man,  had  no  holiday — and 
at  last,  without  the  cloak  which  for  some  reason  was  never  j 
bought,  Elizabeth  started  back  to  Aldermanbury,  the  Colleys 
walking  with  her  as  far  as  Houndsditch.  There  they  said 
good-night  to  her  soon  after  nine,  and  returned  home. 

As  far  as  we  can  tell,  the  Lyons  must  have  expected  her 
back  quite  early  in  the  evening,  for  when  nine  o'clock  struck 
from  the  church  tower  close  by,  the  carpenter  grew  uneasy, 
and  went  round  to  Mrs.  Canning  to  see  if  Betty  was  there. 
No ;  her  mother  had  not  seen  her  since  the  morning,  but 
was  sure  she  would  be  in  directly,  and  Mr.  Lyon  would  most 
likely  find  her  at  home  when  he  got  back.  But  at  ten  he 
paid  the  good  woman  another  visit,  saying  he  could  not 
imagine  what  had  kept  the  girl ;  and  at  last  Mrs.  Canning, 
'  frightened  out  of  her  wits  '  as  she  herself  says,  sent  three  of 
the  children  out  into  the  fields  to  look  for  Elizabeth,  and  the 
apprentice  went  down  to  the  Docks  to  inquire  if  she  was 
still  at  her  uncle's.  It  was  now  midnight,  and  the  Colleys 
were  so  fast  asleep  that  the  apprentice  had  some  difficulty  in 
rousing  them  to  listen  to  his  errand. 

*  Betty  here  ?  '  they  asked.  '  Why,  we  left  her  in  Hoi 
ditch  hours  ago.' 


STRANGE  STORY  OF  ELIZABETH  CANNING    259 

But  they  do  not  seem  to  have  felt  any  alarm  till  the 
following  morning  when  the  young  man  knocked  again,  and 
informed  them  that  they  could  gain  no  news  of  the 
missing  girl. 

Inquiries  were  made  and  advertisements  were  placed  in 
the  paper ;  all  in  vain.  To  be  sure,  a  '  gentlewoman  in  an 
oil-shop '  in  Bishopsgate  declared  that  she  had  heard  a 
'  young  voice  scream  out  of  a  coach  '  on  the  night  of  January  1 ; 
but  as  she  '  did  not  know  whether  it  was  a  man's  or  a  woman's 
voice,'  her  information  was  not  of  much  use.  However, 
vague  though  it  was,  Mrs.  Canning  caught  at  it  eagerly  and 
put  it  into  the  advertisement.  As  to  what  had  become  of  her 
daughter,  she  guessed  something  different  every  day.  Per- 
haps she  had  been  kidnapped,  or  she  might  have  been 
murdered,  or  have  had  an  attack  of  illness. 

Some  years  before,  part  of  the  ceiling  of  a  garret  had 
fallen  on  Elizabeth's  head  and  hurt  her,  so  that  if  anything 
frightened  her  she  was  apt  to  lose  her  sense  of  what  was 
going  on  for  a  while.  Naturally  when  the  girl  was  lost  her 
mother  remembered  this  and  dreaded  lest  she  should  have 
fallen  down  in  some  strange  place  unconscious.  Every  idea 
that  could  come  into  a  person's  mind — every  accident  likely 
or  unlikely  that  had  ever  befallen  anybody — was,  we  may 
feel  certain,  discussed  in  the  month  of  January  1753  by 
Mrs.  Canning  and  her  neighbours. 

She  had  almost  given  up  hope,  and  was  even  in  the  act  of 
praying  to  see  her  daughter's  ghost,  when  Elizabeth  at  last 
came.  But  what  an  Elizabeth  !  The  apprentice,  when  he 
hastened  to  the  door  on  hearing  the  latch  lifted,  did  not 
recognise  the  girl,  and  thought  it  was  a  woman  who  had 
called  to  ask  her  way.  Then  the  truth  suddenly  dawned  on 
him  and  he  cried  out,  '  Betty  has  come  home ' ;  but  as  she 
entered,  nearly  bent  double  and  walking  sideways  holding  her 
hands  before  her,  her  mother  took  her  to  be  indeed  the  ghost 
she  had  prayed  for,  and,  shrieking  '  Feel  her  !  Feel  her !  '  sank 
down  in  a  fit. 

It  was  the  apprentice  and  not  Mrs.  Canning  who  attended  to 
Elizabeth  and  placed  her  in  the  chimney-corner,  where  she  sat 

s2 


260    STRANGE  STORY  OF  ELIZABETH  CANNING 

exhausted  and  to  all  appearance  nearly  dead.  Her  mother's 
first  act  on  recovering  from  her  fit  was  to  send,  not  for  the 
doctor  but  for  the  neighbours,  and  so  many  flocked  to  see  the 
lost  girl,  that  in  two  minutes  the  room  was  full,  and  the  appren- 
tice had  to  stand  at  the  door  to  keep  fresh  people  out.  Of 
course  it  was  long  before  anyone  thought  of  putting  Elizabeth 
to  bed,  and  giving  her  something  to  eat  or  drink ;  instead 
they  plied  her  with  questions  as  to  where  she  had  been  and 
what  she  had  been  doing,  and  how  she  had  got  in  that  dreadful 
condition.  To  these  she  replied,  telling  the  same  tale  which 
she  repeated  to  Alderman  Chitty  upon  oath  two  days  later. 

On  the  following  morning  an  apothecary  was  summoned, 
and  attended  her  for  a  week  till  a  doctor  was  called  in,  and  he 
for  some  days  thought  very  badly  of  her  chance  of  living. 

But  weak  and  ill  as  she  might  be,  two  days  after  her  return 
home  she  '  was  brought '  before  Alderman  Chitty  to  tell  her 
story.  And  this  was  what  she  said  : 

After  her  uncle  and  aunt  had  left  her  in  Houndsditch,  she 
was  passing  along  the  wall  which  surrounded  the  lunatic 
asylum  of  Bedlam,  into  Moorfields,  when  she  was  suddenly 
attacked  by  two  men  who  took  all  her  money  from  her  pocket, 
and  then  stripped  off  her  gown  and  hat.  She  struggled  and 
tried  to  scream,  but  a  handkerchief  was  quickly  thrust  into 
her  mouth,  and  she  was  told  that  if  she  made  any  noise  they 
would  kill  her.  To  show  that  they  spoke  the  truth,  one  of 
them  did  indeed  give  a  blow  on  the  head,  and  then  they  took 
her  under  the  arms  and  dragged  her  along  Bishopsgate  till 
she  lost  her  senses,  as  she  was  apt  to  do  when  frightened. 
She  knew  no  more  till  she  found  herself  in  a  strange  place 
which  she  had  since  learned  was  a  house  at  Enfield  Wash, 
about  eleven  miles  from  Aldermanbury.  By  this  time  it  was 
about  four  in  the  morning  of  January  2. 

In  the  kitchen  in  which  she  recovered  consciousness  were 
several  people,  among  them  an  old  woman  who  asked  her  if 
she  would  stay  with  her  instead  of  returning  home.  To  this 
Elizabeth  replied  No ;  she  would  not,  as  she  wanted  to  go 
back  to  her  mother  at  once.  The  old  woman  looked  very 
angry  at  her  answer,  and  pushed  her  upstairs  into  a  room, 


STRANGE  STORY  OF  ELIZABETH  CANNING    261 

where  she  cut  her  stay-laces,  and  took  the  stays  themselves 
away.  She  then  told  her  there  was  bread  and  water  for  her 
if  she  was  hungry,  but  that  was  all  she  would  get ;  adding 
that  the  girl  had  better  be  quiet,  for  if  she  attempted  to  scream 
out,  she  herself  would  come  in  and  cut  her  throat. 

Having  said  this,  the  old  woman  went  away  locking  the 
door  behind  her,  and  that  was  the  last  the  girl  saw  of  any 
human  creature  for  four  weeks,  except  the  eye  of  a  person 
who  peeped  through  the  keyhole. 

Left  alone,  Elizabeth  looked  about  for  the  food  which  was 
provided  for  her,  and  found  there  were  some  pieces  of  bread 
about  as  much  as  a  '  quartern  loaf  ' — and  three-quarters  of  a 
gallon  of  water  or  a  little  more,  in  a  pitcher.  She  had  besides 
a  penny  mince-pie  that  she  had  bought  while  she  was  at  her 
uncle's  the  day  before,  and  intended  as  a  present  for  her 
little  brother ;  for,  as  she  said  to  her  mother,  the  boy  had 
'  huffed  her,'  and  she  had  not  given  him  a  penny  like  his 
sisters,  so  the  mince-pie  was  to  make  up. 

At  this  point  Chitty  seems  to  have  stopped  her,  and  asked 
her  to  describe  the  room  in  which  she  was  imprisoned  and  to 
tell  him  what  it  contained.  There  was  but  little  furniture  of 
any  sort  in  it,  she  answered.  An  old  stool  or  two,  an  old  chair 
and  an  old  picture  over  the  chimney.  The  room  itself  had  two 
windows,  facing  north  and  east,  one  of  which  was  entirely 
boarded  up  ;  but  the  other,  though  there  were  some  boards  on 
it,  was  mostly  glass.  It  was  through  the  window  at  the  end 
of  the  room  that  she  escaped  about  half-past  three  on  the 
afternoon  of  Monday  January  29,  dropping  on  to  the  roof  of  a 
shed  built  against  the  house,  and  so  to  the  ground. 

She  knew,  it  appears,  that  the  road  which  ran  past  the 
house  was  the  one  leading  from  London  into  Hertfordshire, 
because  she  recognised  the  coachman  who  had  carried  parcels 
for  her  mistress  many  a  time.  Thus,  when  she  escaped, 
tearing  her  ear  as  she  did  so  on  a  nail  outside  the  window,  she 
had  no  difficulty  in  starting  in  the  right  direction  for  London, 
though  after  a  short  distance  she  became  confused,  and  had 
X)  ask  the  way  of  several  people.  She  ended  by  saying  that 
?he  arrived  at  home  about  ten  o'clock  very  weak  and  faint, 


262     STRANGE  STORY  OF  ELIZABETH   CANNING 

and  that  her  mother  gave  her  some  wine,  which  however  she 
was  unable  to  swallow. 

Now  in  those  times  both  lawyers  and  judges  were  apt  to 
be  very  careless,  and  according  to  our  ideas,  very  dishonest, 
and  Chitty  seems  to  have  been  no  better  than  the  rest.  He 
took,  he  says,  a  few  notes  of  the  interview  with  Elizabeth  for 
his  own  memorandum,  but  '  not  thinking  it  would  have 
been  the  subject  of  so  much  inquiry  later,  did  not  take  it  so 
distinct  as  he  could  wish.'  Even  this  paper  which  he  did 
show  was  not  what  he  had  written  down  at  the  time  when  the 
girl  was  telling  her  story,  but  something  that  he  had  pieced 
together  from  her  own  account  and  that  of  various  other 
people  who  had  been  present  at  her  mother's  two  nights 
before,  and  had  gone  with  her  to  the  Alderman.  So  that  no 
court  of  law  in  these  days  would  have  thought  that  Alderman 
Chitty's  account  given  more  than  a  year  later,  of  what  Eliza- 
beth told  him,  was  to  be  trusted.  In  the  end,  however, 
Chitty,  who  declares  he  had  examined  her  for  an  hour  and 
asked  her  '  many  questions  not  set  down '  in  his  paper,  granted 
a  warrant  for  the  arrest  of  one  Mother  Wells  at  Enfield  Wash, 
for  assaulting  and  robbing  her.  Elizabeth  herself  expressly 
says  she  '  could  tell  nothing  of  the  woman's  name,'  though 
'  she  believed  she  should  know  her ;'  but  one  of  Mrs.  Canning's 
visitors  on  the  night  of  the  girl's  arrival,  who  was  acquainted 
with  Enfield,  was  certain  that  the  house  described  could  only 
be  that  in  which  Mother  Wells  lived,  and  on  his  information 
Chitty  allowed  the  warrant  for  her  arrest  to  be  made  out. 

This  man,  Robert  Scarrat,  seems  to  have  put  to  Elizabeth 
a  great  many  questions  which  never  occurred  to  the  Alderman. 
He  asked  her,  for  instance,  to  describe  the  woman  who  had 
cut  off  her  stays,  and  she  replied  that  she  was  '  tall,  black  and 
swarthy,  and  that  two  girls,  one  fair  and  one  dark,  were  with 
her.'  This  answer  surprised  him  ;  it  was  not  what  he  ex- 
pected. Mother  Wells  was  not  a  tall,  swarthy  woman,  and  he 
said  at  once  that  it  could  not  have  been  Mother  Wells  at  all, 
as  the  description  was  not  in  the  least  like  her. 

On  Thursday  February  1,  Elizabeth  was  put  into  a  coach 
and  drove  with  her  mother  and  two  other  women  to  Mother 


STRANGE  STORY  OF  ELIZABETH  CANNING    263 

Wells'  house  in  Enfield  Wash,  where  they  were  met  by  the 
girl's  two  masters  and  several  friends.  The  object  of  the 
visit  was  to  prove  if  the  description  given  by  her  of  the  room, 
in  which  she  was  confined,  was  correct,  and  if  she  could  pick 
out  from  a  number  of  persons  the  woman  who  had  cut  off 
her  stays  and  locked  her  up.  As  to  how  far  the  room,  as  seen 
by  Elizabeth's  friends,  at  all  resembled  what  she  had  told  them, 
it  is  impossible  to  be  certain.  It  assuredly  was  very  different 
from  the  place  which  Alderman  Chitty  swore  she  had  described, 
containing  a  quantity  of  hay,  old  saddles,  and  other  things 
that  the  girl  had  apparently  not  noticed,  even  though  she 
had  been  there  a  month ;  while  there  was  no  old  picture 
above  the  mantelpiece — nothing,  indeed,  but  cobwebs — and 
there  Avas  no  grate,  though  she  had  sworn  she  had  taken  out 
of  it  the  bedgown  or  jacket  she  had  come  home  in.  Besides, 
— and  this  was  more  serious — there  was  not  a  sign  of  the 
pent-house  on  which,  she  said,  she  had  jumped  after  tearing 
away  the  boards  at  the  north  window ;  and  one  of  the  witnesses 
declared  that  you  had  only  to  push  open  the  east  window  to 
get  out  of  it  with  perfect  ease,  and  that  he  himself  had  leaned 
out  and  shaken  hands  with  his  wife,  who  was  standing  on  the 
ground  which  rose  on  that  side  of  the  house.  But  then  the 
witnesses  were  not  at  all  agreed  among  themselves  what 
Elizabeth  had  really  said,  so  again  we  are  unable  to  make  up 
our  minds  what  to  believe. 

After  she  had  seen  the  room,  she  was  taken  into  the 
parlour  where  eight  or  ten  people  were  sitting,  and  it  is  curious 
that  now  everyone  tells  the  same  tale.  On  one  side  of  the 
fireplace  sat  Mother  Wells,  and  on  the  other  Mary  Squires. 

Mary  Squires  was  a  gipsy,  tall  and  swarthy,  very  ill 
made  and  extraordinarily  ugly,  and  altogether  a  person  whom 
it  would  be  impossible  to  forget.  At  the  time  of  Elizabeth's 
entrance  she  was  sitting  crouched  up,  with  a  white  handker- 
chief on  her  head  such  as  women  often  wore,  and  over  it  a  hat, 
while  a  short  pipe  was  in  her  hand.  Several  more  persons  were 
on  the  same  side  of  the  room,  in  a  sort  of  circle  round  the  fire. 

Elizabeth  glanced  towards  them.  Her  eyes  rested  first 
on  Mother  Wells  and  then  looked  past  her. 


264    STRANGE  STORY  OF  ELIZABETH  CANNING 

'  That  is  the  woman  who  cut  off  my  stays,'  she  said, 
pointing  to  the  gipsy.  At  these  words  Mary  Squires  rose 
and  came  up  to  the  girl,  throwing  aside  her  hat  and 
handkerchief  as  she  did  so. 

'  Me  rob  you  ?  '  she  cried.  '  I  hope  you  will  not  swear 
my  life  away,  for  I  never  saw  you.  Pray,  madam,  look  at  this 
face ;  if  you  have  once  seen  it  you  must  remember  it,  for 
God  Almighty  I  think  never  made  such  another.' 

'  I  know  you  very  well,'  answered  Elizabeth ;  '  I  know 
you  too  well,  to  my  sorrow.' 

'  Pray,  madam,  when  do  you  say  I  robbed  you  ?  ' 

'  It  was  on  the  first  day  of  this  New  Year,'  replied 
Elizabeth. 

'  The  first  day  of  the  New  Year  ?  '  cried  the  gipsy.  '  Lord 
bless  me  !  I  was  an  hundred  and  twenty  miles  away  from  this 
place  then,  at  Abbotsbury  hi  Dorsetshire,  and  there  are  a 
hundred  people  I  can  bring  to  prove  it.' 

But  no  one  at  that  tune  paid  any  attention  to  her  words, 
or  thought  of  allowing  her  to  prove  her  innocence.  Elizabeth, 
with  two  girls  found  in  Mother  Wells'  house,  were  examined 
before  Henry  Fielding,  the  novelist,  author  of  '  Tom  Jones,' 
then  a  magistrate  of  London,  who  showed,  according  to  his 
own  account,  gross  unfairness  in  dealing  with  the  matter, 
and  by  him  the  case  was  sent  for  trial  at  the  Old  Bailey. 

Elizabeth  repeated  the  story  she  had  told  from  the  first, 
with  the  result  that  the  gipsy  was  condemned  to  be  hanged, 
and  Mother  Wells  to  be  branded  on  the  hand  and  to  go  to  prison 
for  six  months.  Luckily,  however,  for  them,  the  president  of 
the  court  that  tried  them  was  the  Lord  Mayor  Sir  Crispe 
Gascoigne,  a  man  who  had  more  sense  of  justice  and  fair  play 
than  many  of  his  fellows.  He  did  not  feel  sure  of  the  truth  of 
Elizabeth's  tale,  and  never  rested  till  both  the  old  women 
were  set  at  liberty. 

This  made  the  mob  very  angry.  They  were  entirely  on 
Elizabeth's  side,  and  more  than  once  attacked  the  Lord 
Mayor's  coach.  Other  people  were  just  as  strong  on  behalf 
of  the  gipsy,  and  things  even  went  so  far  that  often  the 
members  of  the  same  family  declined  to  speak  to  each  other. 


STRANGE  STORY  OF  ELIZABETH  CANNING    265 

Then  came  Elizabeth's  turn.  In  April  1754  she  was 
arrested  on  a  charge  of  perjury  or  false  swearing,  and  sent  to 
stand  her  trial  at  the  Old  Bailey.  Now  was  Mary  Squires' 
opportunity  for  calling  the  '  hundred  people  '  to  prove  that 
she,  with  her  son  George  and  daughter  Lucy,  was  down  at 
Abbotsbury  in  Dorsetshire,  on  January  1, 1753,  at  the  moment 
that  she  was  supposed  to  be  cutting  off  the  stays  of  Elizabeth 
Canning  at  Enfield  Wash  !  And  if  she  did  not  quite  fulfil 
her  promise,  she  actually  did  summon  thirty-six  witnesses  who 
swore  to  her  movements  day  by  day  from  December  29,  1752, 
when  all  three  Squires  stopped  at  an  inn  at  South  Parret  in 
Dorsetshire,  to  January  23.  1753,  when  Mary  begged  for  a 
lodging  at  Page  Green.  Now  Page  Green  was  within  two 
or  three  miles  of  Enfield  Wash,  where  the  gipsy  admitted 
she  had  stayed  at  Mother  Wells'  house  for  ten  days  before 
Elizabeth  Canning  had  charged  her  with  robbery.  Her  denial 
of  the  accusation  was  further  borne  out  by  a  man  and  his 
wife,  who  appear  in  the  reports  as  '  Fortune  and  Judith 
Natus  '  (he  was  quite  plainly  called  '  Fortunatus '  after  the 
young  man  with  the  fairy  purse),  both  of  whom  declared  upon 
oath  that  they  had  occupied  the  room  in  which  Elizabeth 
stated  she  had  been  confined,  for  ten  or  eleven  weeks  at  that 
very  time,  and  that  it  was  used  as  a  hayloft. 

Mary  Squires  had  called  thirty-six  witnesses  to  '  prove 
an  alibi ' — in  other  words,  to  prove  that  she  had  been  present 
somewhere  else  ;  but  Elizabeth's  lawyers  produced  twenty-six, 
stating  that  they  had  seen  her  about  Enfield  during  the  month 
when  Elizabeth  was  lost.  This  was  enough  to  confuse  any- 
body, and  many  of  the  witnesses  on  both  sides  were  exceedingly 
stupid.  To  make  matters  worse  and  more  puzzling,  not  long 
before  a  law  had  been  passed  to  alter  the  numbering  of  the 
days  of  the  year.  For  instance,  May  5  would  suddenly 
be  reckoned  the  16th,  a  fact  it  was  almost  impossible  to  make 
uneducated  people  understand.  Indeed,  it  is  not  easy  always 
to  remember  it  oneself,  but  it  all  helps  to  render  the  truth 
of  Elizabeth's  tale  more  difficult  to  get  at,  for  you  never  could 
be  sure  whether,  when  the  witnesses  said  they  had  seen  the 
gipsy  at  Christmas  or  Xew  Year's  Day,  they  meant  Old 


266    STRANGE  STORY  OF  ELIZABETH  CANNING 

Christmas  or  New  Christmas,  old  New  Year's  Day  or  new  New  | 
Year's  Day.  Yet  certain  facts  there  are  in  the  story  which 
nobody  attempts  to  contradict.  It  is  undisputed  that  a  young 
woman,  weak  and  with  very  few  clothes  on,  was  met  by  four 
or  five  persons  on  the  night  of  January  29,  1753,  on  the  road 
near  Enfield  Wash,  inquiring  her  way  to  London,  or  that 
on  the  very  same  night  Elizabeth  Canning  arrived  at  home 
in  Aldermanbury,  in  such  a  state  that  next  morning  an  apothe- 
cary was  sent  for.  Nor  does  anyone,  as  we  have  said,  deny 
that  she  picked  out  the  gipsy  from  a  number  of  people,  as  the 
person  who  assaulted  her.  All  this  is  in  favour  of  her  tale. 
Yet  we  must  ask  ourselves  what  possible  motive  Mary  Squires 
could  have  had  in  keeping  a  girl  shut  up  in  a  loft  for  four 
weeks,  apparently  with  a  view  of  starving  her  to  death  ? 
Elizabeth  was  a  total  stranger  to  her ;  she  was  very  poor,  so 
there  was  no  hope  of  getting  a  large  ransom  for  her ;  and  if 
she  had  died  and  her  kidnapping  had  been  traced  to  Mary 
Squires,  the  gipsy  would  have  speedily  ended  her  days  on 
the  gallows. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  Mary  Squires  did  not  know  Elizabeth 
Canning,  Elizabeth  equally  did  not  know  Mary  Squires,  and 
we  cannot  imagine  what  reason  Elizabeth  could  have  had 
in  accusing  her  falsely.  Only  one  thing  stands  out  clear  from 
the  report  of  the  trial,  and  that  is,  that  Elizabeth  was  absent 
during  the  whole  of  January  1753,  and  that  she  very  nearly 
died  of  starvation. 

'  Guilty  of  perjury,  but  not  wilful  and  corrupt,'  was  the 
verdict  of  the  jury,  which  the  judge  told  them  was  nonsense. 
They  then  declared  her  guilty,  and  Elizabeth  was  condemned 
to  be  transported  to  one  of  his  Majesty's" American  colonies 
for  seven  years. 

We  soon  hear  of  her  as  a  servant  in  the  house  of  the 
Principal  of  Yale  University,  a  much  better  place  than  any  she 
had  at  home.  At  the  end  of  the  seven  years  she  came  back  to 
England,  where  she  seems  to  have  been  received  as  something 
of  a  heroine,  and  took  possession  of  £500  which  had  been  left 
her  by  an  old  lady  living  in  Newington  Green.  She  then  sailed 
for  America  once  more,  and  married  a  well-to-do  farmer  called 


STRANGE  STORY  OF  ELIZABETH  CANNING    267 

Treat,  and  passed  the  rest  of  her  life  with  her  husband  and 
children  in  the  State  of  Connecticut. 

Up  to  her  death,  which  occurred  in  1773,  she  always 
maintained  the  truth  of  her  tale. 

Was  it  true  ? 

The  lawyers  who  were  against  Elizabeth  said,  at  her  trial, 
that  as  soon  as  she  was  found  guilty,  the  secret  of  where  she 
had  been  would  be  revealed. 

It  never  was  revealed.  Now  several  persons  must  have 
known  where  Elizabeth  was  ;  all  the  world  heard  her  story,  yet 
nobody  told  where  she  had  been.  If  the  persons  who  knew 
had  not  detained  and  ill-used  the  girl,  there  was  nothing  to 
prevent  them  from  speaking. 

Yet  to  the  end  we  shall  ask,  why  did  Mary  Squires  keep  her 
at  Enfield  Wash — if  she  did  keep  her  ? 


MRS.  VEAL'S  GHOST 

Now  you  are  going  to  hear  a  ghost  story  published,  but 
he  says,  not  written,  by  Daniel  Defoe  the  author  of  '  Robinson 
Crusoe.'  If  you  read  it  carefully,  you  will  find  how  very 
curious  it  is. 

Miss  Veal,  or  as  she  was  then  called  according  to  custom, 
Mrs.  Veal,  was  an  unmarried  lady  of  about  thirty  living  with 
her  only  brother  in  Dover.  She  was  a  delicate  woman,  and 
frequently  had  fits,  during  which  she  would  often  stop  in  the 
middle  of  a  sentence,  and  begin  to  talk  nonsense.  These 
fits  probably  arose  from  not  having  had  enough  food  or  warm 
clothes  in  her  childhood,  for  her  father  was  not  only  a  poor 
man  but  also  a  selfish  one,  and  was  too  full  of  his  own  affairs 
to  look  after  his  children.  One  comfort,  however,  she  had, 
in  a  little  girl  of  her  own  age,  named  Lodowick,  who  often 
used  to  bring  her  neighbour  half  of  her  own  dinner,  and  gave 
her  a  thick  wadded  tippet  to  wear  over  her  bare  shoulders. 

Years  passed  away  and  the  girls  grew  to  women,  meeting 
as  frequently  as  of  old  and  reading  together  the  pious  books 
of  the  day,  '  Drelincourt  upon  Death  '  being  perhaps  their 
favourite.  Then  gradually  a  change  took  place.  Old  Veal 
died  ;  the  son  was  given  a  place  in  the  Customs,  and  his  sister 
went  to  keep  house  for  him.  She  was  well-to-do  now,  and 
had  no  longer  any  need  of  a  friend  to  provide  her  with  food 
and  clothes,  and  little  by  little  she  became  busy  with  her 
new  life,  and  forgot  the  many  occasions  on  which  she  had 
exclaimed  gratefully  to  her  playfellow,  '  You  are  not  only 
the  best,  but  the  only  friend  I  have  in  the  world,  and  nothing 
shall  ever  loosen  our  friendship.'  Now  she  visited  in  the 
houses  of  people  who  were  richer  and  grander  than  herself 
268 


MRS.   VEAL'S  GHOST  269 

and  sought  out  her  old  companion  more  and  more  seldom, 
so  that  at  length  when  this  story  begins,  two  years  and 
a  hah1  had  passed  by  without  their  having  seen  each  other. 

Meanwhile,  though  Mrs.  Veal,  in  spite  of  a  few  love  affairs, 
had  remained  a  spinster,  her  friend  had  married  a  Mr. 
Bargrave,  and  a  very  bad  match  he  proved,  for  the  way  in 
which  he  ill-used  his  wife  soon  became  known  to  everyone. 
They  left  Dover  about  a  year  after  Mrs.  Bargrave's  last 
visit  to  Mrs.  Veal,  and  several  months  later  they  settled  in 
Canterbury. 

It  was  noon,  on  September  8,  1705,  and  Mrs.  Bargrave  was 
sitting  alone  in  an  arm-chair  in  her  parlour,  thinking  over  all 
the  misery  her  husband  had  caused  her  and  trying  hard  to 
feel  patient  and  forgiving  towards  him.  '  I  have  been  pro- 
vided for  hitherto,'  she  said  to  herself,  '  and  doubt  not  that 
I  shall  be  so  still,  and  I  am  well  satisfied  that  my  sorrows 
shall  end  when  it  is  most  fit  for  me.'  She  then  took  up  her 
sewing,  which  had  dropped  on  her  lap,  but  had  hardly  put  in 
three  stitches  when  a  knocking  at  the  door  made  her  pause. 
The  clock  struck  twelve  as  she  rose  to  open  it,  and  to  her 
profound  astonishment  admitted  Mrs.  Veal,  who  had  on  a 
riding  dress  of  silk. 

'  Madam,'  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bargrave,  '  I  am  surprised  to 
see  you,  for  you  have  been  a  stranger  this  long  while,  but  right 
glad  I  am  to  welcome  you  here.'  As  she  spoke,  she  leaned 
forward  to  kiss  her,  but  Mrs.  Veal  drew  back,  and  passing 
her  hand  across  her  eyes,  she  answered  : 

'  I  am  not  very  well ; '  adding  after  a  moment,  '  I  have  to 
take  a  long  journey,  and  wished  first  to  see  you.' 

'  But,'  answered  Mrs.  Bargrave,  '  how  do  you  come  to 
be  travelling  alone  ?  I  know  that  your  brother  looks  after 
you  well.' 

'  Oh,  I  gave  my  brother  the  slip,'  replied  Mrs.  Veal, 
'  because  I  had  so  great  a  desire  to  see  you  before  I  set  forth.' 

'  Well,  let  us  go  into  the  next  room,'  said  Mrs.  Bargrave, 
leading  the  way  to  a  small  room  opening  into  the  other. 
Mrs.  Veal  sat  down  in  the  very  chair  in  which  Mrs.  Bargrave 


270  MKS.   VEAL'S  GHOST 

had  been  seated  when  she  heard  the  knocking  at  the  door. 
Then  Mrs.  Veal  leaned  forward  and  spoke  : 

'  My  dear  friend,  I  am  come  to  renew  our  old  friendship, 
and  to  beg  you  to  pardon  me  for  my  breach  of  it.  If  you 
can  forgive  me,  you  are  one  of  the  best  of  women.' 

'  Oh  !  don't  mention  such  a  thing,'  cried  Mrs.  Bargrave. 
'  I  never  had  an  unkind  thought  about  it,  and  can  most 
easily  forgive  it.' 

*  What  opinion  can  you  have  had  of  me  ?  '  continued  Mrs. 
Veal. 

'  I  supposed  you  were  like  the  rest  of  the  world,'  answered 
Mrs.  Bargrave,  '  and  that  prosperity  had  made  you  forget 
yourself  and  me.' 

After  that  they  had  a  long  talk  over  the  old  days,  and 
recalled  the  books  they  had  read  together,  and  what  comfort 
they  had  received  from  Drelincourt's  Book  of  Death,  and  from 
two  Dutch  books  that  had  been  translated,  besides  some  by 
Dr.  Sherlock  on  the  same  subject.  At  Mrs.Veal's  request,  Mrs. 
Bargrave  brought  Drelincourt's  discourses  down  from  upstairs, 
and  handed  it  to  her  friend,  who  spoke  so  earnestly  of  the 
consolations  to  be  found  in  it  that  Mrs.  Bargrave  was  deeply 
touched.  But  when  Mrs.  Veal  assured  her  that  '  in  a  short 
time  her  afflictions  would  leave  her,'  Mrs.  Bargrave  broke 
down  and  wept  bitterly. 

*  Are  you  going  away  and  leaving  your  brother  without 
anyone  to  look  after  him  ?  '    asked  Mrs.  Bargrave  as  soon  as 
she  could  speak. 

'  Oh  no  !  my  sister  and  her  husband  had  just  come  down 
from  town  to  see  me,  so  it  will  be  all  right,'  answered  Mrs.  Veal. 

'  But  why  did  you  arrange  to  leave  just  as  they  arrived  ? ' 
again  inquired  Mrs.  Bargrave.  '  Surely  they  will  be  vexed  ?  ' 

'  It  could  not  be  helped,'  replied  Mrs.  Veal  shortly,  and 
said  no  more  on  the  subject. 

After  this,  the  conversation,  which  continued  kfor  nearly 
two  hours,  was  chiefly  carried  on  by  Mrs.  Veal,  whose  language 
might  have  been  envied  by  the  most  learned  doctors  of  the 
day.  But  during  the  course  of  it  Mrs.  Bargrave  was  startled 
to  notice  Mrs.  Veal  draw  her  hand  several  times  across  her 


MES.   VEAL'S  GHOST  271 

eyes  (as  she  had  done  on  her  entrance),  and  at  length  she  put 
the  question, 

'  Airs.  Bargrave,  don't  you  think  I  look  much  the  worse 
for  my  fits  ?  ' 

'  No,'  answered  Mrs.  Bargrave,  '  I  think  you  look  as  well 
as  ever  I  saw  you.' 

'  I  want  you  to  write  a  letter  for  me  to  my  brother,'  then 
said  Mrs.  Veal,  '  and  tell  him  to  whom  he  is  to  give  my  rings, 
and  that  he  is  to  take  two  gold  pieces  out  of  a  purse  that  is  in 
my  cabinet,  and  send  them  to  my  cousin  Watson.'  Cousin 
Watson  was  the  wife  of  a  Captain  Watson  who  lived  in  Canter- 
bury. As  there  seemed  no  reason  that  Mrs.  Veal  should  not 
write  the  letter  herself,  the  request  appeared  rather  odd  to 
Mrs.  Bargrave,  especially  as  then  and  afterwards  it  was  the 
custom  for  people  to  leave  rings  to  their  friends  in  their 
wills.  These  rings  contained  little  skulls  in  white  enamel, 
and  the  initials  in  gold  of  the  dead. 

Mrs.  Bargrave  wondered  if  her  friend  was  indeed  about 
to  suffer  from  one  of  her  attacks.  So  she  hastily  placed  herself 
in  a  chair  close  by  her,  that  she  might  be  ready  to  catch  Mrs. 
Veal  if  she  should  fall,  and,  to  divert  her  visitor's  thoughts, 
took  hold  of  her  sleeve,  and  began  to  admire  the  pattern. 

'  The  silk  has  been  cleaned,'  replied  Mrs.  Veal,  '  and  newly 
made  up,'  and  then  she  dropped  the  subject  and  went  back 
to  her  letter. 

'  Why  not  write  it  yourself  ? '  asked  Mrs.  Bargrave.  '  Your 
brother  may  think  it  an  impertinence  in  me.' 

'No,'  said  Mrs.  Veal;  'it  may  seem  an  impertinence  in 
you  now,  but  you  will  discover  more  reason  for  it  hereafter ; ' 
so  to  satisfy  her,  Mrs.  Bargrave  fetched  pen  and  ink  and  was 
about  to  begin  when  Mrs.  Veal  stopped  her. 

'  Not  now,'  she  said  ;  '  wait  till  I  am  gone  ;  but  you  must 
be  sure  to  do  it,'  and  began  to  inquire  for  Mrs.  Bargrave's 
little  girl,  Molly,  who  was  not  in  the  house. 

'  If  you  have  a  mind  to  see  her,  I  will  fetch  her  home,' 
answered  the  mother,  and  hastily  ran  over  to  the  neighbour's 
where  the  child  was.  When  she  returned,  Mrs.  Veal  was 
standing  outside  the  street  door,  opposite  the  market  (which 


272  MES.    VEAL'S  GHOST 

was  crowded,  the  day  being  Saturday  and  market  day), 
waiting  to  say  good-bye  to  her. 

'  Why  are  you  in  such  a  hurry  ?  '  inquired  Mrs. 
Bargrave. 

'  It  is  time  for  me  to  go,'  anwered  Mrs.  Veal,  '  though  I 
may  not  start  on  my  journey  till  Monday.  Perhaps  I  may  see 
you  at  my  cousin  Watson's  before  I  depart  whither  I  am 
hastening.'  Then  she  once  more  spoke  of  the  letter  Mrs. 
Bargrave  was  to  write,  and  bade  her  farewell,  walking  through 
the  market-place,  till  a  turning  concealed  her  from  view. 

It  was  now  nearly  two  o'clock. 

The  following  day  Mrs.  Bargrave  had  a  sore  throat,  and 
did  not  go  out,  but  on  Monday  she  sent  a  messenger  to  Captain 
Watson's  to  inquire  if  Mrs.  Veal  was  there.  This  much 
astonished  the  Watsons,  who  returned  an  answer  that  Mrs. 
Veal  had  never  been  to  the  house,  neither  was  she  expected. 
Mrs.  Bargrave  felt  sure  that  some  mistake  had  been  made,  and, 
ill  though  she  was,  put  on  her  hood  and  walked  to  the  Watsons' 
(whom  she  did  not  know)  to  find  out  the  truth  of  the 
matter. 

Mrs.  Watson,  who  was  at  home,  declared  herself  unable  to 
understand  why  Mrs.  Bargrave  should  imagine  that  Mrs.  Veal 
should  be  in  their  house.  She  had  never  been  in  town,  Mrs. 
Watson  was  persuaded,  as  if  she  had,  she  would  certainly 
have  called  on  them.  It  was  to  no  purpose  that  Mrs.  Bar- 
grave  assured  the  good  lady  that  Mrs.  Veal  had  spent  two 
hours  with  her  on  the  previous  Saturday;  Mrs.  Watson 
simply  refused  to  believe  it. 

In  the  midst  of  the  discussion  Cap  tarn  Watson  came  in 
and  announced  that  on  the  previous  Friday — September  7, 
1705 — at  noon,  Mrs.  Veal  had  died  of  exhaustion,  after  one 
of  her  fits  ;  and  that  even  at  that  moment  the  big  painted 
board  with  the  family  coat  of  arms — called  by  Captain  Watson 
an  '  escutcheon  '  and  by  us  a  '  hatchment ' — was  being  painted 
in  Canterbury.  When  finished,  it  would  be  taken  to  Dover 
and  hung  up  in  front  of  the  Veals'  house.  Mrs.  Bargrave 
found  the  Captain's  story  impossible  to  believe,  and  she  went 


MRS.   VEAL'S  GHOST  273 

off  immediately  to  the  undertaker's  shop,  where  the  '  escut- 
cheon '  was  shown  her.  Not  knowing  what  to  think,  she  next 
hastened  back  to  the  Watsons,  and  told  the  whole  tale  of 
Mrs.  Veal's  visit,  describing  every  particular  of  her  appearance 
and  silk  habit,  which  Mrs.  Veal  had  specially  mentioned  was 
scoured.  On  hearing  this,  Mrs.  Watson  cried  out  excitedly, 
'  Then  you  must  indeed  have  seen  her,  as  I  helped  her  myself 
to  make  it  up,  and  nobody  but  she  and  I  knew  that  it  was 
scoured.' 

In  this  way  the  Watsons'  doubts  of  the  appearance  of 
Mrs.  Veal  were  set  at  rest,  and  the  story  was  soon  '  blazed  '  all 
about  the  town  by  the  lady,  while  the  Captain  took  two  of  his 
friends  to  Mrs.  Bargrave  in  order  that  they  might  listen  to  her 
own  account  of  the  strange  circumstance,  which  she  gave  in 
exactly  the  same  words  as  before.  Very  soon  her  house  was 
besieged  by  all  sorts  of  people  interested  in  the  story,  who 
saw  that  Mrs.  Bargrave  was  a  straightforward,  cheerful 
person,  not  at  all  likely  to  have  invented  such  a  surprising 
tale. 

Amongst  those  who  visited  Mrs.  Bargrave  was  the  lady 
whose  account  was  published  by  Defoe  in  1706.  Their 
houses  were  near  together,  and  they  had  known  each  other 
well  for  many  years.  It  is  she  who  tells  us  of  various  little 
facts  which  go  far  to  prove  the  truth  of  Mrs.  Veal's  apparition  : 
how  it  was  discovered  that  the  sister  and  brother-in-law  to 
whom  Mrs.  Veal  referred  really  had  travelled  from  London 
to  Dover  in  order  to  pay  their  family  a  visit  but  only  arrived 
just  as  Mrs.  Veal  was  dying;  how  the  servant  next  door, 
hanging  out  clothes  in  the  garden,  had  heard  Mrs.  Bargrave 
talking  to  someone  for  above  an  hour  at  the  very  time 
Mrs.  Veal  was  said  to  be  with  her ;  and  how  immediately  after 
Mrs.  Veal  had  departed,  Mrs.  Bargrave  had  hurried  in  to  the 
lady  next  door,  and  told  her  that  an  old  friend  she  feared  she 
had  lost  sight  of  had  been  to  see  her,  and  related  their 
conversation. 

But  Mrs.  Veal's  brother  in  Dover  was  very  angry  when  he 
heard  what  was  being  said  in  Canterbury,  and  declared  he 


274  MRS.  VEAL'S  GHOST 

should  go  and  call  on  Mrs.  Bargrave,  who  seemed  to  be  making 
a  great  deal  out  of  nothing.  As  to  the  little  legacies  which 
Mrs.  Bargrave  had  mentioned  in  her  letter  that  Mrs.  Veal 
wished  him  to  give  to  her  friends,  why.  he  had  asked  his  sister 
on  her  death-bed — for  she  was  conscious  for  the  last  four 
hours  of  her  life — whether  there  was  anything  she  desired 
to  dispose  of,  and  she  had  answered  no.  But.  in  spite  of  Mr. 
Veal's  wrath,  everyone  believed  in  Mrs.  Bargrave's  tale,  for 
they  believed  in  Mrs.  Bargrave  herself.  She  had  nothing  to 
gain  by  inventing  such  a  story,  and  was  ready  to  answer  all 
questions  put  to  her  in  a  plain,  straightforward  way. 

'  I  asked  her"  said  the  lady  from  whom  Defoe  obtained 
his  account.  '  if  she  was  sure  she  felt  the  gown  :  she  answered, 
"  If  my  senses  are  to  be  relied  on,  I  am  sure  of  it." ' 

'  I  asked  her  if  she  had  heard  a  sound  when  Mrs.  Veal 
clapped  her  hand  upon  her  knee  ;  she  said  she  did  not 
remember  that  she  did.  but  added :  "  She  appeared  to  be  as 
much  a  substance  as  I  did,  who  talked  with  her ;  and  I 
may  be  as  soon  persuaded  that  your  apparition  is  talking  to 
me  now  as  that  I  did  not  really  see  her,  for  I  was  under 
no  manner  of  fear  ;  I  received  her  as  a  friend  and  parted  with 
her  as  such.  I  would  not,"  she  concluded  "give  one 
farthing  to  make  anyone  believe  it,  for  I  have  no  interest 
in  it."  ' 

From  Defoe's  day  to  this  many  people  have  read  the  tale, 
and  several  have  held  it  to  be  a  pure  invention  of  the  novelist. 
But  some  have  taken  the  trouble  to  search  out  the  history  of 
the  persons  mentioned  in  it,  and  have  found  that  they  at  any 
rate  were  real,  and  living  in  Dover  and  in  Canterbury  at  the 
very  dates  required  by  the  story.  In  the  reign  of  Charles  I. 
a  Bargrave  had  been  Dean  of  Canterbury,  and  a  Richard 
Bargrave  married  a  widow  in  the  church  of  St.  Alphege  in 
1700.  There  had  been  also  Veals  connected  with  Canterbury, 
which  is  curious,  and  we  find  that  a  son  of  William 
Veal  was  baptised  in  St.  Mary's,  Dover,  in  August  1707.? 
Now.  as  Mrs.  Veal  kept  her  brother's  house  when  they  moved 
into  Dover,  he  must  have  married  after  his  sister's  death  on 
September  7,  1705.  And  if  we  turn  over  the  Parish  Register 


MRS.   VEAL'S  GHOST  275 

of  that  very  year,  we  shall  see  the  burial  of  a  '  Mrs.  Veal '  on 

September  10. 

The  Watsons  are  also  to  be  found  in  Canterbury,  and  an 
'  old  Mr.  Breton  '  in  Dover,  who  was  known  to  have  given 
Mrs.  Veal  £10  a  year. 

Of  course  it  does  not  follow  from  this  that,  because  the 
characters  of  the  tale  published  by  Defoe  only  ten  months 
after  Mrs.  Veal's  death  were  actually  alive  in  the  very  places 
where  he  said  we  should  find  them,  Mrs.  Veal's  ghost 
did  really  appear  to  Mrs.  Bargrave.  But  if  not,  why  drag 
in  all  these  people  to  no  purpose  ?  They  could  all  have  con- 
tradicted him,  but  the  only  person  who  did  so  was  Mr.  Veal 
himself,  and  he  alone  had  a  motive  in  disbelieving  the 
appearance  of  his  sister,  as  he  may  not  have  wished  to  hand 
over  the  rings  which  she  had  bequeathed  to  her  friends,  or 
to  diminish  the  contents  of  the  purse  of  gold  he  was  driven  to 
admit  that  she  possessed. 

Once  more,  it  is  perfectly  certain  that  Mrs.  Bargrave 
told  and  stood  by  her  story,  for  in  May  1714  a  gentleman  went 
to  see  her  and  cross-examine  her.  Mrs.  Bargrave  said  that  she 
did  not  know  the  editor  of  her  story,  but  that  it  was  quite 
correct  except  in  three  or  four  small  points  ;  for  instance, 
that  she  and  Mrs.  Veal  had  talked  about  the  persecution  of 
Dissenters  in  the  time  of  Charles  II.  was  omitted  in  the  printed 
version.  The  gentleman  then  made  the  corrections  by  his 
copy  of  the  book,  and  added  a  long  note  in  Latin  about  his 
visit  to  Mrs.  Bargrave  on  May  21,  1714. 

This  copy  of  the  book  Mr.  Aitken  found  in  the  British 
Museum  ;  so,  whether  we  believe  Mrs.  Bargrave's  story  or 
not,  she  undoubtedly  told  it,  and  it  was  not  invented  by 
i  Defoe. 

The  facts  were  discovered  by  Mr.  G.  A.  Aitken,  who  pub- 
lished them  in  his  edition  of  Defoe's  tales.  He  does  not  seem 
to  have  known  that  in  an  old  book,  Dr.  Welby's  '  Signs  before 
Death,'  there  is  another  version,  with  curious  information 
about  Mistress  Veal's  broken  engagement  with  Major-General 
Sibourg,  killed  in  the  battle  of  Mons  ;  and  about  the  kinship 
of  the  mother  of  Mrs.  Veal  with  the  family  of  the  Earl  of 

T2 


276  MRS.   VEAL'S  GHOST 

Clarendon,  which  induced  Queen  Anne,  moved  by  Arch- 
bishop Tillotson,  to  give  Mr.  Veal  his  place  in  the  Customs. 
We  also  learn  that  Mrs.  Bargrave's  cold  on  the  Sunday  was 
caused  by  the  conduct  of  her  husband,  who  came  home  in- 
toxicated, found  her  excited  by  her  interview  with  Mrs. 
Veal,  and  saying,  '  Molly,  you  are  hot,  you  want  to  be  cooled,' 
led  her  into  the  garden,  where  she  passed  the  night. 


THE  CHIEF'S  DAUGHTER 

RAVEN'S  wife  had  died,  and  as  he  felt  very  lonely  he  soon 
determined  to  marry  a  second,  but  it  was  not  very  easy  to 
find  a  girl  to  suit  him,  for  she  was  obliged  to  be  of  noble  birth 
as  the  other  had  been.  And  to  add  to  the  difficulties,  a 
mischief-maker  called  Tsagwan  was  also  seeking  a  wife  of  the 
same  kind,  and  wherever  Raven  went  Tsagwan  flew  after 
him,  and  told  untrue  stories  about  Raven,  so  that  fathers 
refused  to  give  him  their  daughters.  At  last  Raven  discovered 
this  and  went  straight  to  the  chief  of  the  town. 

'  I  know  what  has  happened,'  said  he.  '  And  you  will 
suffer  for  it.  If  I  had  married  your  daughter,  you  would 
have  had  a  great  name  in  the  world,  but  now  your  daughter 
will  marry  someone  whom  no  one  ever  heard  of,  and  if  they 
speak  of  you  among  men  it  will  be  as  The-Chief-with-no-name.' 
When  he  heard  this  the  chief  trembled,  for  he  knew  it  would 
be  shameful. 

So  Raven  left  him  and  continued  his  journey  till  he  reached 
the  house  of  an  old  man  who  lived  alone. 

'  Do  you  know  the  young  daughter  of  the  chief  who  lives 
not  far  from  here  ?  '  he  asked. 

'  Yes,  I  know  her.' 

'  Well,  why  don't  you  marry  her  ?  ' 

'  Oh,  it  is  quite  impossible  that  I  should  marry  her,  so  I 
don't  see  the  good  of  trying.' 

'  Don't  be  so  faint-hearted,'  said  Raven,  '  I  will  give  you 
a  medicine  which  will  cause  her  to  fall  in  love  with  you.' 

'  But  I  have  no  slaves,  and  she  will  expect  slaves,'  said 
the  old  man. 

'  Oh  no,  she  won't,'  answered  Raven,  '  she  will  take  a 
277 


278  THE  CHIEFS  DAUGHTER 

liking  to  you  and  no  one  will  be  able  to  help  it.  She  will 
marry  you,  and  her  father  will  lose  half  his  property.' 

And  Raven  kept  his  word  and  his  medicine  made  the  old 
man  look  young  again,  and  Raven  bestowed  feathers  on 
him  to  put  in  his  hair,  and  a  robe  of  marten  skin  to  throw 
over  his  shoulders.  When  he  was  dressed  the  man  looked 
very  handsome  and  was  greatly  pleased  with  himself.  But 
his  face  fell  when  Raven  said  to  him  : 

'  Remember  you  are  not  going  to  be  like  this  always  ;  it  is 
only  for  a  day  or  two.' 

Then  the  man  got  into  his  skin  canoe  and  paddled  over  to 
where  the  girl  lived,  and  he  did  not  go  to  ask  her  father's  con- 
sent but  sought  her  out  when  she  was  alone,  and  she  fell  in  love 
with  him  although  she  had  refused  to  listen  to  many  other 
men  besides  Raven,  and  this  was  Raven's  revenge. 

'  Yes,  I  will  marry  you,'  she  said,  '  and  I  will  go  with  you, 
even  if  my  father  kills  me  for  it.' 

So  she  married  him,  and  after  that  her  father  and  mother 
were  told  of  it.  But  the  chief,  instead  of  being  unkind  to  his 
daughter,  gave  her  rich  fur  robes  ;  'for,'  said  he,  'if  she  is 
already  married  there  is  no  use  in  my  being  angry  ;  and 
besides,  her  husband  is  a  handsome  fellow  and  is  plainly  of 
high  birth.'  And  he  and  the  husband  talked  together  of  his 
daughter's  suitors  and  especially  of  the  man  who  had  been 
cruel  to  his  first  wife,  but  the  husband  did  not  know  that  the 
chief  meant  Raven. 

The  new  husband  was  anxious  to  get  back  to  his  own  home, 
as  he  was  afraid  that  his  fine  clothes  might  drop  off  him 
on  the  way.  Therefore  he  lost  no  time  in  saying,  '  My  father 
told  me  I  was  to  return  at  once  in  my  canoe  ;  let  us  hasten,  but 
do  not  you,  my  wife,  take  any  furs  with  you  except  those  you 
want  to  keep  you  warm  on  the  journey,  for  I  have  more  than 
enough  in  my  house.'  The  wife  obeyed  him,  and  only  took 
with  her  a  marten  skin  and  a  fox  robe. 

Now  the  girl  lay  in  the  canoe  with  her  eyes  shut,  and  she 
lay  there  for  a  long  while  till  she  thought  that  they  must  be 
near  home.  Then  she  sat  up  and  looked  out,  and  caught 


THE  CHIEF'S  DAUGHTER  279 

sight  of  her  husband's  face,  which  looked  quite  different  from 
when  she  had  seen  it  before.  For  now  it  was  full  of  wrinkles, 
and  the  hair  was  thin  and  grey.  And  at  the  sight  her  heart 
beat  so  fast  it  seemed  as  if  it  would  jump  out  of  her  body, 
and  she  cried  very  bitterly,  because  she  was  frightened  and 
angry. 

As  soon  as  the  canoe  ran  upon  the  beach  she  sat  upon  the 
rocks  weeping  while  the  old  man  went  from  house  to  house 
throughout  the  village,  begging  them  to  take  her  in,  as  she 
was  a  high-born  girl  and  he  had  no  place  that  was  fit  for  her. 
But  they  would  not,  and  at  last  his  sister,  who  was  still  older 
than  he,  came  down  to  the  beach  and  took  the  girl  back  to  her 
house,  which  was  dirty  and  shabby.  The  girl  went,  but  she 
was  very  miserable,  and  every  day  the  people  stopped  as  they 
were  passing,  and  mocked  at  her  and  her  husband. 

Curious  to  say,  the  chief  and  his  sons  had  been  quite 
deceived  by  the  fine  clothes  of  the  daughter's  husband,  and 
resolved  to  make  him  presents  suited  to  his  rank.  Therefore 
one  day  the  people  of  the  village  beheld  a  procession  of  canoes 
paddling  over  the  sea,  one  filled  with  furs,  another  containing 
the  father  and  brothers  of  the  girl,  and  a  third,  in  which  sat 
the  slaves  with  green  feathers  in  their  hah*,  taken  from  the 
heads  of  drakes.  The  old  man  saw  them  likewise,  and  called 
to  some  boys  to  come  and  help  him  clean  up  the  house.  But 
they  only  answered,  '  Clean  up  yourself,  for  you  are  dirty 
enough.' 

'  Well,  at  least  carry  up  the  strangers'  goods  ;  they  are 
now  landing,'  said  he,  but  the  boys  replied  as  they  had  done 
before, '  Carry  them  yourself.'  In  the  end,  it  was  the  strangers 
who  carried  them  and  put  them  down  where  they  could  ;  and 
they  noticed  that  the  old  man's  sister  was  crying,  and  the 
strangers  felt  sorry  for  her. 

The  old  man  soon  found  that  he  would  get  no  help  from 
anybody,  for  they  were  all  angry  with  him  for  having  married 
a  chief's  daughter.  If  he  asked  them  to  lend  him  a  basket 
for  his  guests  to  eat  off,  they  told  him  to  use  his  own  ;  if  he 
begged  them  to  fetch  water,  they  bade  him  get  it  himself,  and 


280  THE  CHIEF'S  DAUGHTER 

even  when  he  took  a  very  dirty  old  basket  to  fill  at  the  stream, 
as  he  stooped  down  the  water  moved  a  little  further  away 
and  then  a  little  further  still,  as  if  it  also  had  a  spite  at  him. 
Indeed,  it  did  this  so  often  that  at  last  he  found  himself  in  the 
mountains,  where  it  vanished  into  a  house.  Once  more  he 
followed  it  and  beheld  a  very  old  woman  sitting  inside. 

'  What  is  the  matter  ?  '  said  she.  '  Is  there  anything  I 
can  do  for  you  ?  ' 

'  You  can  do  a  great  deal  for  me  if  you  only  will,'  answered 
he.  '  I  am  very  poor  and  have  married  a  noble  wife,  whose 
father  and  brothers  have  come  to  visit  me.  I  have  nothing 
to  give  them,  and  my  neighbours  will  not  help.' 

'  Is  that  all  ?  '  she  said. 

'  Yes,  all !  Is  it  not  enough  ?  '  But  the  old  woman  only 
smoothed  his  hair  with  her  hand,  and  in  a  moment  it  was 
thick  and  black  as  it  had  been  in  his  youth,  and  his  rags  became 
handsome  garments.  Even  the  very  basket  changed  into  a 
beautiful  new  one. 

'  Go  and  dip  the  basket  into  the  spring  that  is  in  the  corner,' 
said  she,  and  when  he  drew  it  up  it  was  full  of  water  and  of 
shells. 

The  man  made  all  the  haste  he  could  down  the  mountain, 
but  nobody  recognised  him  except  his  wife,  and  those  who 
had  seen  him  when  he  went  to  marry  her.  He  refreshed 
them  all  with  water  and  gave  them  handfuls  of  the  shells, 
which  they  prized  greatly,  in  return  for  the  slaves  and  furs 
his  father-in-law  had  presented  to  him,  for  it  is  the  custom 
of  that  tribe  that,  if  a  man  receives  a  gift  from  a  father-in- 
law,  he  shall  pay  it  back  with  something  of  much  greater 
value.  And  he  soon  grew  so  rich  that  the  people  made  him 
chief  of  the  town. 

Now  that  happened  which  was  bound  to  happen.  The 
people  who  had  mocked  him  when  he  was  poor  were  ready 
to  bow  down  to  him  when  he  was  rich,  while  he  and  his  wife 
grew  harder  and  prouder  every  day.  They  built  themselves  a 
large  house  where  they  gave  magnificent  feasts,  but  they 
passed  most  of  their  time  on  the  roof  of  the  house,  watching 
all  that  went  on  below. 


WHAT  BEAUTIFUL  BIBDS  !    I  SHOULD  LIKE  TO  MABBY  ONE  OF  THEM  1 


THE  CHIEF'S  DAUGHTER  283 

One  fine  spring  evening  they  were  sitting  there  as  usual, 
when  a  flock  of  swans  flew  across  the  sky  from  the  south-east. 
'  What  beautiful  birds  !  I  should  like  to  marry  one  of  them  !  ' 
exclaimed  the  wife,  as  the  swans  gradually  disappeared  in 
the  distance.  Of  course  she  did  not  mean  anything,  any  more 
than  when  she  repeated  the  same  words  on  seeing  the  sand- 
cranes  overhead,  or  the  brants  which  presently  came  past. 
But  the  brants  did  not  know  this,  and  as  soon  as  they  heard 
her  they  flew  down  and  carried  her  off  on  their  wings.  Her 
husband  ran  after  them  but  he  never  reached  them,  only 
now  and  then  she  let  fall  some  of  the  loose  clothes  that 
covered  her.  By  and  bye  —  for  they  found  she  was  heavier 
than  they  expected — the  brants  let  the  woman  fall  too. 
Luckily  they  were  then  over  the  sandy  beach  so  she  was  not 
hurt,  but  she  was  quite  naked  and  even  her  hair  had  been 
rubbed  off.  She  got  up  and  walked  quickly,  crying  as  she  went, 
to  some  trees  which  had  large  leaves,  and  these  she  twisted 
together  till  she  had  made  a  kind  of  apron.  Then  she  wan- 
dered along  the  beach  not  knowing  where  she  was  going,  and 
thinking  sadly  of  her  home  and  her  husband,  till  she  came 
to  a  house  with  an  old  woman  sitting  in  it.  The  sight  gladdened 
her  heart,  and  she  entered  and  held  out  the  head  of  a  red 
snapper  which  she  had  picked  up  on  the  shore,  saying,  '  Let 
us  cook  this  red  snapper  head  for  dinner.' 

'  Yes,  let  us  cook  it,'  answered  the  old  woman,  and  after 
they  had  eaten  it  she  bade  the  chief's  wife  go  back  to  the  beach 
and  try  to  find  something  else.  This  time  the  girl  brought  in 
a  fish  called  a  sculpin,  and  it  was  cooked  also  ;  but  while  they 
were  eating  it  the  chief's  wife  heard  the  noise  of  boys  shouting, 
though  she  could  see  no  one. 

'  Take  the  tray  with  the  food  out  to  that  hole,'  said  the  old 
woman,  and  as  the  chief's  wife  did  so  she  beheld  many 
hands  sticking  up  out  of  the  ground.  She  placed  the  tray  in 
the  hands,  and  waited  as  it  disappeared.  In  a  moment 
it  rose  to  the  surface  again,  with  two  fine  fox  skins  on  it, 
which  she  carried  back  to  the  old  woman. 

'  Make  yov  <e\i  some  robes  out  of  them,'  said  she,  and  the 
girl  did  so. 


284  THE  CHIEF'S  DAUGHTER 

When  she  was  dressed,  the  old  woman  spoke  to  her  again, 
and  said  : 

'  Your  father  and  mother  live  in  a  salmon  creek,  a  little 
way  along  the  beach.  It  might  be  well  for  you  to  go  and 
pay  them  a  visit.  So  the  girl  went,  and  after  a  time  she  saw 
her  father  out  in  a  canoe  spearing  salmon,  and  her  mother  was 
with  him.  The  girl  ran  quickly  down  to  the  water's  edge  in 
order  to  meet  them,  but  when  her  father  saw  her  he  cried 
out : 

'  Here  comes  a  fox ;  where  are  my  bow  and  arrows  ?  ' 
And  his  daughter  heard  him  and  ran  as  fast  as  she  could  to 
the  woods. 

After  a  while  she  stopped  running,  for  she  knew  she  was 
safe,  and  then  she  made  her  way  to  the  old  woman. 

'  Why  are  you  crying  ?    Did  you  not  see  your  father  ?  ' 

'  Yes,  and  he  took  me  for  a  fox.' 

'  Why,  what  else  do  you  think  you  are  ?  '  asked  the  old 
woman  in  surprise.  '  But  return  at  once  to  your  father  who 
will  want  to  kill  you  ;  and  be  sure  you  let  him  do  it.' 

'  Very  well,  I  will  do  your  bidding,'  answered  the  girl, 
though  the  order  seemed  strange  to  her. 

The  next  day  the  girl  went  down  to  the  beach  and  saw 
her  father  fishing  still  closer  to  the  shore. 

'  Why,  here  is  that  big  fox  again,'  cried  he,  and  she  did 
not  move,  but  waited  while  he  fitted  an  arrow  to  his  bow  and 
shot  her  in  the  heart.  Then  his  wife  got  out  of  the  canoe  and 
began  to  skin  the  fox,  and  as  she  did  so  she  found  something 
on  its  foreleg  which  made  her  start. 

'  Surely  that  is  my  daughter's  bracelet,'  said  she.  '  Yet 
that  is  not  possible  ! '  And  she  continued  her  work.  By  and  by 
she  came  to  the  throat,  and  there  lay  a  necklace.  '  Surely  that 
is  my  daughter's  necklace,'  she  repeated,  and  then  she  called 
to  her  husband,  saying  : 

'  I  found  our  daughter's  necklace  and  bracelet  in  this 
skin.  Something  that  we  know  not  of  must  have  turned 
her  into  a  fox.'  And  they  both  cried,  for  they  remembered  how 
the  fox  had  run  to  meet  them  instead  of  going  away. 

But  Indians  are  learned  in  things  of  which  other  people 


THE  CHIEF'S  DAUGHTER  285 

are  ignorant,  and  they  quickly  set  to  work  and  laid  the  fox's 
body  on  a  mat,  and  covered  it  with  bags  of  eagle's  down 
which  every  tribe  has  ready  to  use,  and  over  all  they  placed 
a  mat,  weeping  as  they  did  so.  After  that  they  fasted  and 
cleaned  up  their  houses,  and  the  girl's  relations  fasted  like- 
wise and  cleaned  up  their  houses.  For  many  days  they  did 
this,  and  at  length,  at  midnight,  the  father  and  mother  felt 
their  house  shaking  beneath  them,  and  heard  a  noise  coming 
from  the  room  where  the  body  lay.  Taking  a  burning  stick, 
the  mother  hastened  to  the  room,  and  found  her  daughter  in 
her  own  shape,  having  become  a  doctor  or  shaman.  Happy 
indeed  were  they  to  behold  her  thus  ;  but,  curious  to  say,  the 
girl's  husband  at  that  moment  lost  all  his  wealth  and  was 
as  poor  as  ever. 

[Tlingit  Myths,} 


THE  BOYHOOD  OF  A  PAINTER 

IF  we  are  to  believe  the  proverb,  a  '  Jack  of  all  Trades  is 
master  of  none,'  and  it  is  mostly  true.  But  here  and  there 
even  in  our  own  day,  we  meet  with  some  gifted  person  who 
seems  to  be  able  to  do  anything  he  desires,  and  during  the 
periods  of  history  when  men — and  boys — were  left  more  to 
themselves  and  allowed  to  follow  then*  own  bent,  these 
geniuses  were  much  less  rare  than  at  present. 

Now  during  the  last  hah*  of  the  fifteenth  century  and  the 
first  haK  of  the  sixteenth  there  lived  in  Italy  a  group  of  men 
who  were  in  the  highest  possible  degree  Jacks  of  all  Trades, 
or  could  have  been  so  if  they  had  chosen.  They  are  known  to 
us  principally  as  painters,  but  the  people  amongst  whom  they 
lived  very  soon  became  aware  that  more  than  one  of  them 
could  arrange  you  a  water  supply  which  would  turn  your 
mill  wheel  if  there  was  no  stream  handy,  or  build  you  a  palace 
if  you  were  a  rich  citizen  and  wanted  one,  or  help  you  to 
fortify  your  walls  if  you  were  the  Lord  of  Milan  or  Florence 
or  Ferrara ;  or  fashion  you  a  gold  brooch  as  a  present  for 
your  wife,  if  that  was  what  you  were  seeking.  As  for  making 
you  a  statue  of  yourself  on  horseback,  to  adorn  the  great 
square  of  the  city  over  which  you  ruled — why,  it  was  as  easy 
to  do  that  as  to  paint  your  portrait ! 

Chief  among  these  '  Universal  Geniuses,'  as  we  should 
call  them,  was  one  Leonardo,  son  of  the  Florentine  notary 
or  lawyer,  Piero  da  Vinci.  He  was  born  in  the  year  1452 
not  far  from  Florence  and  near  the  river  Arno,  and  was 
declared  by  everyone  to  be  one  of  the  most  beautiful  children 
that  ever  was  seen.  As  soon  as  he  could  crawl,  he  would 


THE  BOYHOOD  OF  A  PAIXTER  287 

scramble  away  (if  his  mother  was  busy  and  not  thinking 
about  him)  to  a  place  in  the  garden  where  there  was  always 
a  heap  of  mud  after  a  shower  of  rain,  and  sit  happily  on  the 
ground  pinching  the  mud  into  some  sort  of  shape,  which 
as  he  grew  older,  took  more  and  more  the  form  of  something 
he  knew.  When  his  mother  missed  him  and  came  in  search 
of  him,  he  would  utter  screams  of  disgust.  Then  the  only 
way  to  quiet  him  was  to  play  to  him  on  the  lute  ;  for  through- 
out his  life  Leonardo  loved  music,  and  at  one  time  even  had 
serious  thoughts  of  beinsr  a  professional  musician. 

Ser  Piero  was  very  proud  of  his  astonishing  little  son,  and 
the  boy  was  still  very  young  when  his  father  decided  that  he 
must  be  taught  by  the  best  masters  that  could  be  found  for 
him.  Leonardo  was  quite  willing.  Lessons  were  no  trouble 
to  him  and  he  speedily  took  away  the  breath  of  all  his  teachers 
by  the  amazing  quickness  with  which  he  grasped  everything. 
It  did  not  matter  if  the  subject  was  arithmetic,  or  the  principles 
of  music,  or  the  study  of  geometry  ;  it  was  enough  for  the  boy 
to  hear  a  thing  once  for  him  to  understand  and  remember, 
and  he  constantly  asked  his  master  such  difficult  questions 
and  expressed  doubts  so  hard  to  explain,  that  the  poor  man 
was  thankful  indeed  when  school  hours  were  ended. 

But  whatever  lessons  he  might  be  doing,  Leonardo  spent 
most  of  his  spare  time  in  drawing  and  in  modelling  figures  in 
clay,  as  he  had  done  from  his  babyhood.  His  father  watched 
him  for  a  time  in  silence,  wondering  within  himself  which  of 
the  boy's  many  talents  ought  to  be  made  the  occupation  of  his 
life,  and  at  length  he  decided  to  take  Leonardo  to  his  friend 
Andrea  del  Verrocchio,  and  consult  him  on  the  matter. 
Verrocchio,  like  his  pupil,  was  a  painter,  a  geometrician,  a 
sculptor,  a  goldsmith  and  a  musician,  but  had  at  last  settled 
down  as  a  sculptor,  and  only  now  and  then  amused  himself 
with  other  arts.  When  father  and  son  entered  his  studio  or 
workshop,  Piero  gave  Leonardo  some  clay,  and  bade  him  model 
anything  he  fancied.  The  boy  sat  down  on  the  floor,  and  soon 
finished  a  tiny  statuette  which  might  have  been  the  work  of 
Verrocchio  himself,  so  true  to  life  was  the  figure.  The  sculptor 
was  delighted,  and  declared  that  Leonardo  must  come  to 


288      THE  BOYHOOD  OF  A  PAINTER 

him,  and  that  he  was  very  sure  the  pupil  would  shortly  know 
as  much  as  the  master. 

But  though  he  had  the  gift  of  genius,  Leonardo  took  as 
much  trouble  with  his  work  as  if  he  had  just  been  an  ordinary 
child.,  with  his  whole  future  life  depending  on  his  industry,  f 
And  as  some  of  you  are  perhaps  fond  of  drawing,  you  may 
like  to  hear  how  one  of  the  greatest  artists  in  the  world  set 
about  his  pictures.  First  he  took  a  handful  of  clay  and 
poked  it  and  pinched  it  until  he  had  got  his  figure  exactly  as 
he  wanted  it  to  be.  Then  he  dipped  pieces  of  soft  material  hi 
plaster,  and  arranged  them  in  folds  over  the  naked  figure.  Often 
the  stuff  was  too  stiff  and  would  not  go  in  the  proper  lines,  but 
long  ago  Leonardo  had  learned  that  no  man  could  be  an  artist 
of  any  kind  unless  he  was  possessed  of  endless  patience,  and 
he  would  sit  for  hours  over  his  figure,  taking  the  drapery  off 
and  trying  it  afresh,  till  at  length  it  assumed  exactly  the 
right  shape.  As  soon  as  he  had  a  model  precisely  to  his 
mind,  he  would  stretch  a  bit  of  very  fine  cambric  or  linen, 
that  was  old  and  soft,  upon  a  board,  and  on  this — or  some- 
times on  paper — he  would  copy  his  figure  in  pencil.  As  he  grew 
older,  Verrocchio  would  teach  him  how  you  could  raise  heavy 
weights  by  the  help  of  levers  or  cranes,  how  to  draw  up  water 
from  immense  depths,  or  how  to  tunnel  through  mountains — 
for  the  Italians  have  always  been  famous  for  their  skill  as 
engineers.  But  it  was  the  boy  Leonardo,  and  not  the  man 
Verrocchio,  who  invented  the  plan  of  so  altering  the  course  of 
the  river  Arno  that  a  canal  might  be  cut  between  the  cities  of 
Florence  and  Pisa.  Leonardo  did  not  live  to  see  this  done,  but 
two  hundred  years  after  his  death  a  pupil  of  the  astronomer 
Galileo  executed  it  after  his  scheme,  for  the  Medici  ruler  of 
Florence.  He  was  very  anxious  also  to  raise  the  Church  of 
San  Giovanni  and  to  rest  it  on  stone  '  steps,'  as  he  called  them, 
and  showed  the  Signory  or  governing  citizens  of  Florence  how 
it  could  be  done.  And,  says  his  chronicler,  so  persuasive  was 
his  tongue  and  so  good  seemed  his  reasons  that  while  he  was 
speaking  he  moved  them  to  belief  in  his  words,  although  out 
of  his  presence  they  all  well  knew  it  was  impossible. 


THE  BOYHOOD  OF  A  PAINTER  289 

Was  it  ?   one  wonders  now. 

Many  stories,  of  course,  were  told  of  him  during  these 
years — for  the  Florentines  were  not  slow  to  find  out  the 
genius  who  dwelt  among  them — and  here  is  one  that  is  very 
characteristic  of  the  boy.  Verrocchio  was  working  on  a 
picture  of  the  baptism  of  our  Lord  by  St.  John,  and  he 
entrusted  the  painting  of  the  Angel  standing  by  to  his  pupil. 
When  it  was  finished  the  master  came  and  looked  at  it,  and 
remained  silently  gazing  at  the  figure.  He  was  too  true  an 
artist  not  to  feel  at  once  that  he  and  Leonardo  had  changed 
places,  and  that  the  boy's  Angel  was  worth  more  than  all 
the  rest  of  the  picture.  The  chronicler  tells  us  that  he  was  so 
wounded  at  this  discovery  that  he  never  touched  paint  any 
more,  but  though  it  is  always  rather  hard  to  find  ourselves 
thrown  into  the  shade,  probably  Verrocchio's  renunciation 
of  painting  lay  deeper  than  mere  envy.  Why  should  he  do 
badly  what  another  could  do  perfectly  ?  The  boy's  genius 
was  greater  than  his  :  let  his  master  be  the  first  to  admit  it. 

Leonardo's  father,  Ser  Piero,  had  gone  to  his  country 
house  to  escape  the  heats  of  a  Florentine  summer.  He  was 
resting  one  evening  in  his  garden  when  a  servant  appeared, 
:  saying  that  one  of  his  farmers  desired  to  speak  with  hini. 
j-Ser  Piero  gave  orders  that  the  man  should  be  brought  to 
jhim,  as  he  knew  him  well,  and  they  had  often  fished  together. 

'  Well,  what  now,  Francisco  ?  '  he  asked,  as  the  farmer 
came  up  bowing,  and  bearing  in  his  hands  a  wooden  shield. 
'The  man  explained  that  he  had  cut  down  a  fig  tree  near  his 
;house,  because  it  was  old  and  bore  no  fruit,  and  had  himself 
but  the  shield  he  was  carrying  out  of  the  wood,  and  had 
:brought  it  to  his  lord,  humbly  hoping  that  Ser  Piero  might 
{have  the  goodness  to  get  it  painted  with  some  design,  for 
lie  wished  to  hang  it  up  in  his  kitchen,  as  a  remembrance  of 
i;he  old  tree. 

;  Very  willingly  will  I  do  so,'  answered  Ser  Piero,  and 
ivhen  next  he  went  to  Florence  he  sought  out  his  son  and 
.landed  him  the  shield,  merely  telling  him  to  paint  something 
>n  it.  Leonardo  happened  to  be  busy  at  the  moment,  but 
,is  soon  as  he  had  tune  to  examine  the  piece  of  wood  he  found 


290  THE  BOYHOOD  OF  A  PAINTER 

it  was  rough  and  ill  made,  and  would  need  much  attention 
before  it  would  be  possible  to  paint  it.  The  first  thing  he 
did  was  to  hold  the  shield  before  the  fire  till  the  fibres  were 
softened  and  the  crookedness  could  be  straightened  out.  The 
surface  was  then  planed  and  made  smooth,  and  covered  with 
gypsum. 

So  far  he  had  not  thought  what  the  picture  should  be, 
but  now  he  began  to  consider  this  important  matter,  and  as 
he  pondered  a  look  of  mischief  danced  in  his  eyes. 

'  I  know  !  That  will  do  !  '  he  said  to  himself.  '  The  person 
who  owns  it,  whoever  he  is,  shall  be  as  frightened  as  if  he 
saw  the  head  of  Medusa  ;  only,  instead  of  being  turned  to  stone, 
he  will  most  likely  run  away  !  '  And  still  smiling,  Leonardo 
left  the  workshop  and  went  to  his  room,  taking  the  shield 
in  a  cloth.  Then  he  went  out  into  the  fields  and  hunted 
about  till  he  had  collected  a  quantity  of  strange  creatures, 
hedgehogs,  lizards,  tadpoles,  locusts,  snakes  and  many  others, 
for  he  knew  as  much  about  what  is  called  '  Natural  History  ' 
as  he  did  about  everything  else,  and  could  tell  exactly  where 
these  animals  could  be  found. 

As  soon  as  he  had  collected  enough  he  carried  them  back 
and  locked  them  safely  up  in  a  kind  of  lumber  room,  where 
nobody  was  allowed  to  enter  but  himself.  He  then  sat  down 
and  began  to  place  them  so  as  to  cause  them  to  form  one 
horrible  monster,  with  eyes  and  legs  everywhere.  It  was  a 
long  time  before  he  could  make  anything  horrid  enough  to 
please  him  ;  again  and  again  he  undid  his  work,  and  tried  to 
combine  his  creatures  differently,  but  at  last  something  so 
terrible  stared  him  in  the  face  that  he  almost  felt  frightened. 

'  That  is  all  right,  I  think,'  he  said  with  a  laugh.  '  The 
monster  is  ready,  but  I  must  find  a  background  fitting  for  him.' 

Taking  the  shield,  he  painted  on  it  a  black  and  narrow 
cavern.  At  its  mouth  stood  the  creature  without  form ; 
all  eyes,  all  legs,  all  mouths.  Flames  poured  from  it  on 
every  side,  and  a  cloud  of  vapour  rose  upwards  from  its  many 
nostrils.  After  days  of  hard  labour,  during  which  the  animals 
died  and  filled  the  room  with  a  smell  from  which  even  a  boy 
might  well  be  expected  to  shrink,  Leonardo  visited  his  father 


I.KON\RI><>  t-  RK;HTFXS  HI 


s  FATHKK  \VITH  THK  MONSTER  I-AINTKI 
>\-  HIS  SHIKI.D. 


THE  BOYHOOD  OF  A  PAINTER  291 

and  told  him  he  had  finished  the  shield  which  he  hoped  would 
please  him,  and  that  he  might  have  it  whenever  he  liked. 
Ser  Piero  was  at  the  time  engaged  in  superintending  his  harvest, 
but  when  he  was  free  he  set  off  to  see  his  son.  Leonardo 
himself  answered  his  knock,  and,  showing  his  father  into 
another  room,  begged  him  to  wait  for  a  few  minutes  while  he 
put  away  his  work.  Then  he  rushed  back  to  the  studio, 
darkened  the  window  a  little,  and  carefully  chose  a  position 
for  the  easel  on  which  the  shield  was  standing. 

'  Will  you  come  in  now,  father  ? '  he  said  holding  open  the 
door,  but  no  sooner  was  Ser  Piero  within  the  room  than  ho 
turned  to  fly,  so  terrible  was  the  object  that  met  his  gaze. 

'  It  will  do,  I  see,'  remarked  Leonardo,  catching  him  by  the 
arm.  '  I  wanted  to  make  something  so  dreadful  that  men 
would  shiver  with  fear  at  the  sight  of  it.  Take  it  away,  I 
pray  you,  and  do  with  it  as  you  will.  But  stay,  I  had  better 
wrap  it  first  in  a  cloth,  lest  it  should  frighten  people  out  of 
their  wits  as  you  go  along.' 

Ser  Piero  took  it,  and  departed  without  a  word  to  his  son  ; 
he  really  felt  quite  shaken  from  the  shock  he  had  had,  and 
he  determined  that  so  wonderful  a  painting  should  never 
fall  into  the  hands  of  a  peasant.  So  he  went  to  a  shop  where 
he  found  a  shield  the  same  size  as  the  other,  bearing  the 
device  of  a  heart  pierced  by  an  arrow,  and  when  next  he 
went  into  the  country  he  bade  the  farmer  come  up  to  the 
house  to  receive  it. 

'  Oh  Excellency  !  how  beautiful !  how  can  I  ever  thank 
you  for  your  goodness  ? '  cried  the  man  in  delight  when,  after 
his  long  waiting,  the  shield  was  at  last  delivered  to  him. 

'  I  thought  you  would  be  pleased,'  answered  Ser  Piero, 
smiling  to  himself  as  he  pictured  what  would  have  been  the 
face  of  the  man  before  him,  had  he  been  given  Leonardo's 
monster.  But  this  he  kept  for  some  time  and  then  sold  to  a 
merchant  for  a  hundred  ducats,  who  in  his  turn  parted  with 
it  to  the  Duke  of  Milan  for  three  times  the  price. 

In  this  way  Leonardo  da  Vinci  grew  to  manhood,  gaining 
friends  as  he  went  by  his  beauty  and  his  talents,  and  keeping 
them  by  his  sweetness  of  temper  and  his  generosity.  He 

u  2 


292  THE  BOYHOOD  OF  A  PAINTER 

loved  all  animals,  especially  horses,  and  could  never  see  a 
caged  bird  without  trying  to  buy  it,  in  order  to  set  it  free. 

The  kings  and  popes  of  those  days  were  always  eager  to 
attract  artists  to  their  courts,  and  vied  with  each  other  in 
trying  to  outbid  rivals,  and  when  he  was  very  young  Leonardo 
received  a  commission  from  the  King  of  Portugal  to  draw 
a  design  for  some  hangings  to  be  copied  hi  silk  hi  Flanders. 
He  painted  an  immense  number  of  portraits,  some  to  please 
himself  and  others  ordered  by  his  friends,  and  decorated, 
either  with  painting  or  sculpture,  a  great  many  churches  and 
other  buildings.  Two  of  his  pictures,  at  any  rate,  you  may 
perhaps  know  from  engravings  of  them — the  portrait  of 
Francesco  del  Giocondo's  wife,  bought  by  Francis  the  First 
and  lately  stolen  from  the  Louvre,  and  the  Last  Supper, 
painted  for  the  Dominican  monks  hi  Milan,  and  now  almost 
ruined  by  the  damp. 

Leonardo  was  forty-one  when  he  was  invited  to  go  to 
Milan  by  the  celebrated  Lodovico  Sforza,  uncle  to  the  reigning 
duke.  Knowing  that  Lodovico — il  Moro,  as  he  was  called — 
had  a  passion  for  music,  the  painter  constructed  with  his  own 
hands  a  silver  instrument,  shaped  like  a  horse's  head,  to  which 
he  sang  tunes  invented  by  himself,  to  words  made  up  as  he 
went  along.  This  delighted  Lodovico  and  also  his  wife,  the 
young  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Ferrara,  who  had  been  brought 
up  amongst  musicians  and  poets.  Those  were  gay  days  at 
Milan,  when  all  did  their  best  to  produce  some  form  of  beauty 
and  everybody's  '  best '  was  so  very  good.  But  dark  days 
were  soon  to  follow,  and  in  a  great  measure  they  were  the 
work  of  Lodovico  himself. 

The  French,  on  one  excuse  or  another,  were  trying  hard 
to  get  a  footing  in  Italy ;  Louis  XII.  even  laid  claim  to  the 
Duchy  of  Milan.  Then  came  his  cousin  and  successor 
Francis  I.,  whom  (in  the  hope  of  gaining  his  favour)  Lodovico 
particularly  wished  to  honour. 

'  What  can  you  hi  vent,  Messer  Leonardo  ?  '  Lodovico 
asked  the  painter.  '  I  want  something  no  one  has  ever  seen 
before  ;  the  king  must  be  tired  of  grand  shows,  and  he  can 
get  them  at  home.  Of  course  we  shall  be  obliged  to  give 


THE  BOYHOOD  OF  A  PAIN  TEE  293 

him  a  splendid  reception  for  the  sake  of  our  own  credit,  but 
I  should  like  something  besides,  which  he  can  remember.' 

So  Messer  Leonardo  thought  and  thought,  and  the  end 
of  his  thinking  was  that  when  the  King  of  France  entered 
Milan,  a  lion,  life  size,  advanced  to  meet  him,  and  touched 
the  king's  breast  with  his  own.  By  means  of  a  spring  the 
lion's  breast  opened  and  from  it  fell  sheaves  of  white  lilies, 
the  emblem  of  France. 

Then  too  the  other  Italian  princes  wished  to  employ  him 
and  to  make  use  of  his  varied  talents.  One  of  the  Borgias 
sent  him  round  the  various  cities  over  which  he  ruled,  to 
inspect  their  fortifications,  and  to  see  what  new  engineering 
Avorks  were  needed  to  withstand  the  constant  sieges  and  the 
wars  of  state  with  state.  Naturally  the  cardinals  would  not 
remain  behindhand,  especially  those  of  the  Medici  family, 
Leonardo's  own  countrymen,  and  hearing  that  his  kinsman 
Giuliano  had  induced  the  artist  to  travel  to  Rome  in  his  train, 
Leo  X.  sent  for  him  and  after  a  long  talk  on  many  subjects 
expressed  a  desire  to  know  if  the  painter  was  able  to  make 
figures  that  would  fly.  The  idea  delighted  Leonardo,  and  he 
instantly  set  about  some  experiments.  After  many  failures 
he  at  length  succeeded  in  producing  a  kind  of  paste  out  of 
wax,  and  while  it  was  still  half  melted  he  modelled  some 
little  horses  and  dogs  and  lions,  scooping  out  the  wax  till  only 
a  very  thin  outer  covering  was  left,  all  the  rest  being  hollow. 
Into  the  figures  he  managed  to  blow  some  air,  and  as  long  as 
the  air  was  in  them  they  flew  about  to  the  joy  and  surprise 
of  everyone,  but  when  it  was  all  exhausted  the  horses  and 
dogs  and  lions  came  tumbling  on  the  floor,  one  on  top  of 
another.  Another  day,  when  the  talk  had  turned  on  feats 
of  strength,  somebody  inquired  whether  what  he  had  been 
told  was  true,  that  Leonardo  was  stronger  than  any  man 
in  Florence. 

'  Here  I  am  ;    try  me,'  answered  the  painter. 

'  We  will,'  they  all  cried,  and  sent  a  servant  for  a  horse- 
shoe, and  for  an  iron  ring  such  as  was  used  for  door- 
knockers. 

'  Now  see  if  you  can  bend  these,'  they  said,  and  Leonardo 


294  THE  BOYHOOD  OF  A  PAINTER 

took  them  and  bent  them  as  easily  as  Samson  broke  the  ropes 
of  the  Philistines. 

The  last  few  years  of  his  life  Leonardo  passed  in  France, 
where  Francis  I.  was  now  king.  Many  of  his  pictures  were 
already  there,  and  there  were  others  which  Francis  desired 
him  to  paint.  But  the  artist  was  tired  and  ill,  and  made  all 
sorts  of  excuses  to  avoid  beginning  his  work.  At  last  he  told 
the  king,  who  frequently  came  to  visit  him,  that  it  was  time 
he  left  the  things  of  this  world  and  turned  his  thoughts  to 
the  other  which  he  would  soon  enter.  His  words  were 
repeated  sorrowfully  among  his  friends,  and  though  they 
fain  would  have  denied  their  truth,  yet  they  could  not.  So 
in  May  1519  he  died,  leaving  behind  him  a  memory  that  will 
live  while  painting  endures.  But  he  was  mourned,  not  only 
on  account  of  his  many  talents  and  splendid  works  of  all 
sorts,  but  for  the  beauty  of  his  face,  which  lasted  till  his  death, 
his  merry  words  that  lightened  the  burden  of  those  who  were 
sad,  and  his  kindness  and  generosity  to  all  who  stood  in  need 
of  help  and  comfort. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  SPANISH  NUN 

IF  you  had  visited  the  convent  of  St.  Sebastian  in  the  Spanish 
town  of  the  same  name  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
you  would  have  found  there  a  merry,  naughty,  clever  little  girl 
called  Catalina  de  Erauso,  the  torment  and  delight  of  all  the 
nuns.  Catalina  had  been  sent  to  the  convent  when  she  was 
quite  a  baby,  because  her  father,  like  many  other  gentlemen 
in  the  Spain  of  those  days,  was  too  poor  to  provide  for  his 
daughters  as  well  as  his  sons.  And  in  general  the  girls  were 
happy  enough  in  the  life  into  which  they  had  been  thrust 
without  any  will  of  their  own,  and  were  allowed  a  certain 
amount  of  pleasure  and  could  see  their  relations  from  time  to 
time. 

The  Seiior  de  Erauso,  Catalina's  father,  had  fixed  on  this 
particular  convent  out  of  the  many  he  had  for  choice, 
because  his  sister-in-law  was  the  Mother  Superior.  Like 
the  rest  of  the  nuns  she  was  very  fond  of  the  child  who  was  so 
ready  with  her  tongue,  so  clever  with  her  hands,  so  quick  to 
forgive  an  injury  done  her,  if  only  the  offender  would  say  she 
was  sorry  !  Some  day,  no  doubt,  Catalina  would  take  her  place 
as  abbess,  and  her  aunt  felt  that  under  her  rule  all  would 
go  well,  for  unruly  as  the  child  often  was,  she  had  the  gift  of 
winning  love  from  everybody. 

But  if  she  had  only  known,  Catalina  had  not  the  smallest 
intention  of  spending  her  days  in  the  convent  overlooking 
the  Bay  of  Biscay.  From  her  father  and  brothers  she  heard 
stories  of  the  wars  which  had  quite  lately  been  raging  in 
France  between  the  Catholics  and  Huguenots  ;  how  a  few 
years  earlier  several  of  her  own  kinsmen  had  gone  down 
in  the  great  storm  which  had  sunk  so  many  of  the  ships  of  the 
295 


296    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  SPANISH  NUN 

huge  Armada,  sent  to  conquer  England.  Something,  too,  she 
picked  up  of  the  wonders  of  the  lands  beyond  the  ocean, 
discovered  a  hundred  years  ago  by  Christopher  Columbus. 
All  this  and  much  more.  Catalina  stored  in  her  head,  and, 
though  she  said  nothing  even  to  her  closest  friends,  soon 
began  to  play  in  her  mind  at  c  escaping  from  the  convent.' 

At  first  she  was  only  in  fun,  and  enjoyed,  as  many  of  us 
do,  making  up  stories  about  herself.  Then  gradually  the 
idea  of  taking  part  in  the  big  world  beyond  the  gates  became 
too  precious  to  set  aside,  and  at  last  it  so  possessed  her.  that 
she  only  waited  for  the  chance  of  carrying  it  out. 

This  happened  when  she  was  fifteen — a  tall,  strong,  hand- 
some girl  full  of  energy  and  courage,  and  quick  to  decide 
whatever  question  came  before  her. 

One  day  the  nuns  assembled  as  usual  for  vespers  or  evening 
prayers,  and  just  as  they  were  all  going  into  chapel  the 
Superior  discovered  that  she  had  left  her  psalm-book  up- 
stairs, locked  in  her  writing-table.  Summoning  Catalina,  she 
handed  her  a  key,  and  bade  her  unlock  the  drawer  in  which 
the  book  was  kept,  and  bring  it  to  her  as  fast  as  possible. 
The  girl  ran  upstairs,  but  when  she  saw  lying  in  the  locked 
drawer,  not  only  the  book,  but  the  key  of  the  convent  gate, 
it  darted  into  her  mind  that  now,  if  ever,  was  her  opportunity 
to  quit  the  convent.  Yet  even  at  that  moment,  she  did  not 
let  her  excitement  get  the  better  of  her.  She  snatched  up 
some  loose  money  from  the  drawer  and  a  small  work-case  that 
lay  on  a  table  and  hid  it  in  her  dress,  and  without  stopping 
a  moment  ran  down  to  the  great  door  of  the  convent,  which 
she  unlocked.  She  next  rejoined  her  aunt  who  was  waiting 
for  her.  and  asked  if  she  might  go  straight  to  bed,  as  she  had 
a  bad  headache. 

In  this  manner  she  secured  to  herself  a  good  start,  as 
no  one  would  think  about  her  for  hours  to  come.  She 
passed  through  the  door  carefully,  locking  it  after  her,  and 
crept  cautiously  along  by  the  wall  till  she  reached  a  chestnut 
wood  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  Here  she  flung  herself 
down  on  a  heap  of  dry  leaves  and  slept  till  sunrise.  This, 


THE  ADVES  TUBES  OF  A  SPANISH  AT.V    207 

fortunately  for  her,  was  very  early,  as  she  had  much  to  do 
before  she  continued  her  journey.  Her  dress  wouJd  have 
told  any  passer-by  that  she  was  a  nun.  or  at  least  that  she 
had  come  from  a  convent,  and  that  was  the  last  thing  they 
must  ever  guess  !  Slipping  off  therefore  her  white  petticoat. 
Catalina  began  at  once  to  turn  it  into  trousers  such  as  men  then 
wore,  and  in  three  or  four  hours  had  finished  a  pair  which,  if 
not  exactly  fashionable,  would  pass  unnoticed.  She  next  man- 
aged to  change  her  long  robe  into  .a  cloak,  and  satisfied  that 
she  would  do  well  enough,  the  girl  started  on  a  walk  to  a 
town  not  far  off.  where  she  had  resolved  to  try  and  find 
shelter  with  an  elderly  cousin. 

It  took  her  two  days  to  arrive  at  his  house,  and  all  that 
time  she  had  nothing  but  wild  fruits  and  berries  to  live  on. 
Of  course  she  did  not  tell  the  cousin  who  she  was.  but  merely 
asked  if  he  would  give  hospitality  to  a  traveller  for  a  short 
time,  which  the  kind  old  man  was  glad  to  do.  Here  Catalina 
rested  after  the  fatigues  she  had  undergone,  but  life  in  the 
town  house  was  far  more  dull  than  life  in  the  convent,  and  the 
girl  had  not  run  away  for  that !  So  in  a  few  days  she  was  again 
missing,  and  a  handlul  of  dollars  also.  Xot  very  many,  but 
just  enough  to  take  her  on  her  way. 

We  meet  Catalina  next  in  the  famous  city  of  Valladolid, 
where  King  Philip  III.  was  holding  his  court.  Here  she 
found  things  much  more  to  her  taste,  and  like  what  she  had 
pictured.  Men  were  walking  through  the  streets  in  huge 
felt  hats,  with  flowing  cloaks  over  their  fine  clothes.  Coaches 
drawn  by  mules  jolted  along,  and  inside  she  caught  a  glimpse 
of  ringleted  heads  and  small  bodies  lost  under  hooped  petti- 
coats. There  were  soldiers,  too.  in  abundance  and  bands  playing 
music — the  first  Catalina  had  ever  heard  outside  the  convent 
chapel.  It  so  delighted  her  that  she  stopped  to  listen,  and  at 
that  moment  some  idle  men  began  to  laugh  at  her  clumsy 
garments,  and  even  threw  stones  at  her.  This  was  more 
than  any  Spanish  girl  could  bear,  even  if  she  had  been  brought 
up  in  a  convent.  She  could — and  did — throw  stones  too.  with 
a  better  aim  than  theirs,  and  very  soon  blood  from  cut  heads 


29S    THE  ADYESTURES  OF  A  SPANISH  SUX 

was  streaming  on  the  roads.  But  the  Spanish  police  who 
hurried  to  the  spot  on  hearing  the  cries  of  the  wounded  men, 
did  not  stop  to  inquire  into  the  rights  of  the  quarrel,  and 
would  have  straightway  flung  Catalina  into  prison,  had  not  a 
young  officer  who  had  been  watching  the  fight  from  his  windows 
hastened  to  interfere,  and  insisted  that  the  stranger  should  be 
released. 

*  You  are  a  brave  boy/  he  said,  *  and  if  you  like  to  be  my 
page.  I  will  gladly  take  you  into  my  house.' 

Catalina  was  grateful  for  the  offer  and  remained  there  for 
three  months,  feeling  very  proud  of  herself  in  her  page's  dress 
of  dark-brae  velvet.  She  would  have  stayed  with  the  young 
don  for  much  longer,  bad  she  not  been  frightened  out  of  her 
wits  one  night  at  dusk  by  the  appearance,  in  the  dark  little 
ante-room  where  she  sat,  of  her  own  father. 

He  did  not  know  her,  of  course  ;  how  should  he  ?  But  all 
the  same,  he  had  come  to  tell  of  her  escape  to  Catalina's  master, 
who  was  in  a  sort  of  way  lord  of  the  convent.  Waiting  in  the 
ante-room,  the  girl  heard  all  then-  conversation,  and  in  dread 
test  she  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Church  and  be 
sent  back  to  St.  Sebastian  she  resolved  to  run  off  before  there 
was  any  risk  of  her  being  traced. 

Xow  at  that  time  a  fleet  was  being  fitted  out  for  Pern,  and 
was  to  sail  from  a  seaport  in  the  South.  The  scraps  of  talk 
on  the  subject  which  she  had  overheard  in  the  house  of  the 
young  don  had  fired  her  with  the  wish  to  go  with  the  army 
in  search  of  adventures.  At  the  time  there  seemed  little 
chance  of  her  doing  so,  but  while  crossing  the  dark  streets  of 
Valladolid  in  her  flight,  the  idea  occurred  to  her  that  if  she 
could  manage  to  get  on  board  one  of  the  ships,  she  would  be 
out  of  reach  of  capture.  It  was  a  long  way  to  travel — almost 
the  whole  length  of  Spain — but  by  joining  first  one  party  and 
then  another,  Catalina  at  last  found  herself  in  the  port  of 
San  Lucar.  An  volunteers  were  welcome,  and  convent-bred 
though  she  was,  Catalina  soon  managed  to  pick  up  a  good  deal 
of  seamanship,  while  her  clever  hands  and  her  strength 
combined  made  her  quickly  useful.  Even  with  fair  winds  it 
was  months  before  they  reached  the  coast  of  Peru  for  which 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  XPANIMl  NUN    301 

they  were  bound,  and  when  they  were  almost  there,  their 
troubles  began.  A  frightful  storm  arose  that  blew  the  fleet 
in  all  directions,  and  the  vessel  in  which  Catalina  was  serving 
was  flung  on  a  coral  reef.  The  sea  was  running  high,  and  the 
ship  had  a  deep  hole  in  her  side,  and  all  on  board  knew  that 
twenty-four  hours  at  farthest  would  see  her  sucked  beneath 
the  water. 

At  the  prospect  of  this  awful  doom  the  sailors  grew  frantic, 
and  hastened  to  lower  the  long-boat  and  scramble  into  it. 
The  captain  alone  refused  to  leave  the  ship,  and  Catalina 
refused  to  leave  him.  Instead,  she  hurriedly  lashed  a  few 
spars  together  so  as  to  form  a  raft  which,  even  if  it  would  not 
support  the  weight  of  both,  would  at  least  give  them  some- 
thing to  cling  to  while  they  swam  ashore.  As  she  was  work- 
ing at  the  raft  with  all  her  might,  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning 
showed  an  enormous  wave  breaking  over  the  distant  boat 
and  sweeping  away  the  crew,  who  disappeared  for  ever. 

A  fit  of  despondency  had  seized  on  the  captain,  and  it  was 
in  vain  that  the  girl  tried  to  put  some  of  her  own  spirit  into 
him.  At  length  she  realised  that  she  had  only  herself  to 
depend  on,  and  left  him  alone.  As  soon  as  the  raft  was 
ready,  she  went  down  to  his  cabin  and  broke  open  a  box  of 
gold,  out  of  which  she  took  a  handful  of  coins,  tying  them  up 
in  a  pillow-case  and  fastening  them  securely  to  the  raft,  for 
she  dare  not  put  them  on  her  own  person  lest  the  weight 
should  sink  her  when  once  she  found  herself  in  the  sea. 

The  moment  Catalina  appeared  again  on  deck,  she  saw 
that  the  ship  was  sinking  fast,  and  that  no  time  was  to  be 
lost.  She  lowered  the  raft  and,  calling  to  the  captain  to 
follow  her,  plunged  into  the  sea.  He  obeyed  her,  but  did  not 
give  the  vessel  a  sufficiently  wide  berth,  and,  falling  against 
a  jutting  spar,  was  struck  senseless  and  sucked  under  tho 
vessel.  Catalina  had  managed  better.  She  contrived  to 
get  on  the  raft  and  was  gently  washed  on  shore  by  the  rising 
tide,  though  she  was  too  much  exhausted  by  all  she  had  gone 
through  to  have  been  able  to  swim  there  for  herself. 

For  a  while  she  lay  upon  the  sand  almost  unconscious, 


302    THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  SPANISH  NUN 

but  the  hot  sun  which  appeared  suddenly  above  the  horizon 
warmed  her  body  and  dried  her  clothes,  and  awoke  her  usual 
energy.  She  soon  sat  up  and  looked  about  her,  but  the 
prospect  was  not  cheering  ;  a  desolate  track  stretched  away 
north  and  south,  and  she  did  not  know  on  which  side  stood  the 
town  of  Paita  whither  the  fleet  had  been  bound.  However, 
she  reflected  she  would  never  find  it  by  sitting  still,  and  got  up 
and  climbed  a  rock  to  enable  her  to  see  farther.  Great  was 
her  joy  at  beholding  that  the  raft,  with  the  money  on  it,  had 
stuck  in  a  cleft  some  way  off  along  the  beach,  and  after  she 
had  placed  the  coins  in  her  own  pockets  she  perceived  a 
barrel  of  ship's  biscuits  at  a  little  distance.  To  be  sure,  the 
biscuits  were  half  soaked  with  sea  water,  but  even  so  they 
tasted  quite  nice  to  a  starving  girl. 

A  walk  of  three  days  brought  her  to  Paita,  where  she 
bought  some  fresh  clothes  and  obtained  a  situation  as  clerk  to  a 
merchant.  But  she  did  not  keep  this  very  long,  as  she  incurred 
the  jealousy  of  a  young  man  who  owed  money  to  her  em- 
ployer. He  picked  a  violent  quarrel  with  Catalina,  who  had 
to  fight  a  duel  with  him.  Without  intending  to  kill  him,  her 
sword  passed  through  his  body,  with  the  result  that  she  soon 
found  herself  in  the  hands  of  the  police.  By  a  mixture  of 
punning  and  good  fortune,  Catalina  managed  to  escape  from 
the  prison  hi  which  she  was  confined,  and  making  her  way 
through  the  narrow  streets  to  the  harbour,  she  got  into  a 
small  boat  moored  there  and  hoisted  a  sail.  She  was  afraid 
to  use  the  oars  as  she  had  no  means  of  muffling  them.  The 
wind  was  behind  her  and  she  was  quickly  swept  far  out  to  sea, 
— in  what  direction  she  had  not  the  least  idea.  For  hours  she 
saw  nothing,  and  was  wondering  if  she  had  escaped  so  many 
dangers  only  to  die  of  hunger  and  thirst,  when  towards  sunset 
she  beheld  a  ship  coming  straight  across  her  path.  With  her 
heart  in  her  mouth  she  waved  her  handkerchief,  though  it 
seemed  hardly  possible  that  so  small  a  thing  should  be  visible 
in  that  vast  expanse  of  sea.  But  it  was,  and  the  ship  lay  to, 
waiting  for  the  boat  to  be  blown  up  to  her,  which  happened 
just  after  the  sun  had  set  beneath  the  horizon,  and  the  short 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  SPANISH  NUN    303 

twilight  of  the  tropics  was  over.  Then  it  occurred  to  Catalina 
that  if  the  name  of  her  boat  was  seen  she  might  be  traced 
as  having  come  from  Paita,  and  be  given  up  for  murder.  80 
standing  up  she  rocked  it  gently  from  side  to  side  till  it  was 
filled  with  water,  then  giving  it  a  final  kick  to  make  sure 
it  would  sink,  snatched  at  the  rope  which  was  dangling  down 
the  ship's  side,  and  was  hauled  on  board. 

The  vessel  was  on  her  way  to  Chili  and  was  filled  with 
recruits  for  the  war  then  raging  with  the  Indians,  and  Catalina 
of  course  at  once  declared  her  wish  to  throw  in  her  lot  with 
them.  When  at  length  they  arrived  at  the  port  for  which 
they  were  bound,  a  cavalry  officer  came  to  inspect  the  newly 
enlisted  soldiers  before  they  were  landed,  and  Catalina  was 
startled  to  hear  him  addressed  by  her  own  name.  It  was, 
though  he  was  quite  unaware  of  it,  her  eldest  brother, 
who  had  last  seen  her  when  she  was  three  years  old.  Yet, 
though  from  first  to  last  he  never  guessed  the  truth,  he  took 
an  immediate  fancy  to  '  Pedro  Diaz  ' — for  so  Catalina  called 
herself — and,  as  soon  as  he  heard  that  Pedro  was  a  native  of  his 
own  province  of  Biscaya,  greeted  him  kindly  and  placed  him 
in  his  own  regiment.  But  much  as  she  longed  to  tell  him  who 
she  was,  she  dared  not  do  so,  for  who  could  tell,  if  it  were 
once  known  that  she  was  a  woman  and  had  run  away  from  a 
convent,  what  the  consequences  might  be  ? 

Years  passed  away  and  Catalina — or  '  Pedro  Diaz  ' — had 
distinguished  herself  on  many  occasions  as  a  cavalry  officer. 
Then  a  terrible  thing  occurred.  A  lieutenant  in  her  own 
regiment  came  to  her  and  begged  her  to  be  his  '  second  '  in  a 
duel  to  be  fought  at  eleven  that  night  under  the  walls  of  a 
monastery.  Catalina,  though  ready  enough  with  her  own 
sword  if  her  hot  temper  was  roused,  had  no  fancy  for  duelling, 
and  somehow  felt  more  than  usually  unwilling  to  be  mixed  up 
with  this  affair.  However,  the  young  man  begged  her  so 
earnestly  not  to  refuse  his  request  that  at  last  she  consented. 
When  the  moment  arrived  it  was  so  dark  that  the  two  '  princi- 
pals '  were  forced  to  tie  white  handkerchiefs  round  their  arms, 
in  order  to  see  where  to  attack  ;  and  as  they  were  afraid  of 


304     THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  SPANISH  NUN 

arousing  the  attention  of  the  monks,  hardly  a  word  was 
spoken.  The  signal  was  given  by  the  other  second,  and  the 
duel  began — a  duej  '  to  the  death.'  After  a  sharp  struggle 
both  principals  fell  to  the  ground,  wounded  mortally,  and 
according  to  the  code  of  honour,  which  lasted  nearly  a  hundred 
years  longer,  it  was  necessary  for  the  seconds  to  fight  in  order 
to  avenge  them.  To  Catalina,  who  had  no  quarrel  with  any 
one,  this  custom  was  hateful,  and  she  tried  only  to  defend 
herself  without  touching  her  adversary.  But  in  the  dark  her 
foot  slipped  and  the  point  of  her  sword  entered  his  side. 

'  Villain  !  You  have  killed  me  !  '  he  cried.  They  were  his 
last  words,  and  the  voice  that  uttered  them  was  the  voice  of 
Catalina's  brother  ! 

Too  much  horrified  to  stir,  the  poor  woman  remained  glued 
to  the  spot,  till  she  found  herself  suddenly  seized  by  the  monks 
who  had  been  awakened  by  the  clash  of  weapons  and  by 
de  Erauso's  dying  shriek.  The  glare  of  their  torches  revealed 
that  out  of  the  four  men  who  had  met  on  the  ground  half 
an  hour  earlier  only  one  survived,  and  that  one  was  too 
crushed  by  the  dreadful  fate  which  had  befallen  her  to  be 
able  to  give  any  explanation.  The  monks  kept  her  safely  in 
their  chapel  for  a  few  days,  and  then,  when  her  mind  and 
body  had  partly  recovered  from  the  shock,  they  provided 
her  with  a  horse  and  a  knapsack  filled  with  food,  and  bade 
her  farewell.  But  where  to  go  she  knew  not.  After  the 
awful  thing  that  had  happened  she  could  never  return  to  her 
regiment. 

After  three  days'  riding  she  came  suddenly  upon  two 
soldiers  who  had  deserted  from  the  Spanish  army,  and  were 
almost  starving.  As  soon  as  Catalina  had  shared  her  food 
with  them  and  they  felt  revived,  they  all  agreed  that  their 
best  plan  was  to  climb  over  the  great  mountain  chain  of  the 
Andes,  which  runs  the  whole  length  of  South  Amerjca,  and  once 
on  the  other  side  they  would  be  safe  and  free  to  go  where  they 
would. 

They  little  knew  what  they  were  undertaking.  Many  of 
the  peaks  are  over  20,000  feet  high,  and  are  covered  with 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  SPANISH  NUN    305 

perpetual  snow.  There  was  rarely  to  be  found  any  material 
for  a  fire,  and  if  by  any  chance  they  did  come  on  a  few  sticks, 
they  were  ignorant  of  the  Indians'  secret  of  kindling  a  flame. 
Soon,  even  the  wild  berries  of  the  lower  regions  were  left 
behind  ;  there  was  nothing  for  them  to  eat,  and  very  shortly 
it  became  evident  that  the  day  of  the  deserters  was  done. 

By  this  time  they  were  among  masses  of  rocks  which  stood 
out  in  black  groups  from  the  snow,  and  for  an  instant  hope 
rose  again  in  their  hearts  at  the  sight  of  a  man  leaning  against 
a  tall  pillar  of  stone,  with  a  gun  in  his  hand.  There  was 
something  to  shoot  then  in  this  fearful  white  solitude  !  An 
eagle  perhaps,  or,  better  still,  a  bear  ;  and  with  a  cry  of  joy  to 
her  companions,  Catalina  hastened  on  to  greet  the  stranger. 
At  the  news,  fresh  life  seemed  to  pour  into  their  veins  and  they 
stumbled  after  her  as  fast  as  their  weakness  would  allow. 
They  were  a  little  surprised  that  the  man  never  appeared  to 
see  or  hear  them  as  they  approached,  but  imagined  that  the 
snow  had  deadened  the  sound  of  their  footsteps.  Was  he 
asleep  ?  In  that  position  ?  It  was  not  likely  !  Certainly 
there  was  something  very  odd  about  him,  and  Catalina,  strid- 
ing on  before  the  two  soldiers,  .touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 
With  a  clatter  the  gun  fell  to  the  ground  beside  him,  but  he 
himself  did  not  stir.  Then  the  frightful  truth  burst  upon 
her.  The  man  was  frozen  to  death  ! 

After  this  there  was  no  more  hope  for  the  two  deserters. 
One  sank  into  the  snow  first,  the  other  staggered  a  few 
yards  farther,  and  upon  both  came  the  frozen  sleep  that  knows 
no  waking  and  which,  it  is  said,  is  painless. 

So  Catalina  was  left  to  pursue  her  way  alone,  wondering 
ah1  the  while  how  soon  her  strength  also  would  fail  her,  and 
her  bones  be  left  to  whiten  with  the  rest.  There  was  something 
more  dreadful  to  her  in  the  solitude  and  stillness  of  the  moun- 
tains than  there  ever  had  been  in  the  solitude  of  the  sea,  on 
the  lonely  coast  of  Peru.  Yet  she  went  on  blindly,  almost 
unconsciously,  till  she  was  awakened  from  her  half -paralysed 
state  by  the  sight  of  a  belt  of  olive  trees  lying  below  her. 
Where  there  were  trees,  there  was  probably  water  ;  possibly, 


306     THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  SPANISH  NUN 

even  men  !  And  down  she  went,  stumbling  over  stones, 
sliding  along  the  edge  of  precipices,  till  she  fell,  senseless  from 
exhaustion,  under  their  shadow. 

It  was  hours  before  she  came  to  herself  again,  and  she 
might  have  slept  on  still  longer,  had  not  the  sound  of  horses' 
hoofs  aroused  her.  The  wood  was  thick  and  the  horsemen 
might  have  passed  without  noticing  the  figure  in  the  tall 
grass,  had  not  a  ray  of  sunshine  suddenly  struck  on  some  silver 
lace  of  Catalina's  uniform.  Jumping  instantly  to  the  ground, 
they  examined  her  closely  and  guessed  at  the  reasons 
of  her  plight.  Taking  out  a  skin  bottle,  one  poured  brandy 
down  her  throat — though  it  was  no  light  matter  to  force  her 
teeth  open — and  another  rubbed  her  temples.  After  she  had 
shown  signs  of  life  they  placed  her  on  a  horse,  supporting  her 
in  the  saddle,  for  she  was  still  too  weak  and  dazed  to  sit 
upright. 

It  was  a  long  time — or  it  seemed  so  to  Catalina — before 
the  little  company  drew  up  at  the  door  of  a  large  house,  and 
a  girl  ran  out  to  see  how  it  was  that  the  servants  who  had  been 
sent  by  her  mother  to  the  nearest  town  should  have  returned 
so  soon.  The  poor  wanderer  received  from  both  ladies  the 
kindest  welcome  ;  and  food,  a  warm  bed,  and  rest  soon  set  her 
to  rights,  and  of  course  nobody  dreamed  that  she  was  any- 
thing but  the  soldier  she  appeared.  For  a  while  Catalina 
was  thankful  to  remain  where  she  was,  basking  in  the  sun 
and  enjoying  the  company  of  the  Senora  and  her  daughter. 

It  was  the  first  time  since  she  left  Valladolid  that  she  had 
ever  been  inside  a  home. 

Yet,  grateful  as  she  was  for  all  the  kindness  shown  her, 
Catalina  felt  she  could  not  remain  for  ever  a  guest  of  the 
widowed  Senora  ;  and  she  was  glad  when  the  lady  proposed 
that  they  should  all  visit  a  large  town  lying  to  the  south,  for 
purposes  of  business.  '  And,'  Catalina  thought  to  herself, 
'  it  will  be  easy  for  me,  when  I  am  once  there,  to  invent  some 
excuse  for  bidding  them  farewell.  I  cannot  pass  my  life  in  a- 
hammock  under  trees,  thankful  though  I  am  for  the  rest  which 
has  been  given  me.'  But  she  did  not  guess  that  the  '  excuse  ' 
she  wanted  was  to  be  obtained  only  at  the  risk  of  her  own  neck. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  SPANISH  NUN     307 

Wandering  about  the  town,  she  fell  in  with  some  Portu- 
guese, and  as  she  was  fond  of  cards  she  was  readily  persuaded 
by  them  to  sit  down  and  gamble.  Very  soon,  her  suspicions 
were  roused  that  they  were  not  playing  fair,  and  she  watched 
them  more  closely. 

'  Yes ;  I  was  sure  of  it,'  she  thought,  and  grew  so  angry 
that  she  would  have  liked  to  challenge  the  whole  twelve  on 
the  spot.  Luckily,  she  contrived  with  great  difficulty  to 
restrain  herself,  and  resolved  only  to  fight  the  man  who  had 
won  most  of  her  money. 

When  this  person  left  the  gambling  saloon,  Catalina  kept 
him  in  sight,  but  did  not  attempt  to  speak  to  him  till  she 
saw  him  stop  before  one  of  the  houses  in  a  dark  street.  Then 
she  quickened  her  steps,  and,  tapping  him  on  the  shoulder, 
remarked  :  '  Senor,  you  are  a  robber.' 

'  It  is  possible,'  answered  the  Portuguese,  turning  coolly ; 
'  but  I  don't  care  about  being  told  so,'  and  drew  his 
sword. 

Catalina  drew  hers,  and,  after  a  quick  sharp  fight,  dealt 
him  a  mortal  blow.  As  he  fell,  she  looked  round  hastily, 
fearing  that  some  of  his  friends  might  be  at  hand  to  avenge 
him,  but  all  was  silent.  Satisfied  that  nobody  was  watch- 
ing her,  she  tried  the  door,  which  opened  instantly,  and 
dragged  the  body  into  the  passage.  This  done  she  went 
back  to  the  Senora's  house,  and  getting  into  bed  slept 
soundly,  only  awakening  the  following  morning  to  find  her 
room  filled  with  police. 

Catalina  never  knew  exactly  how  her  fight  with  the  dead 
man  had  been  discovered,  and  as  she  was  instantly  put  in 
prison  to  await  her  trial,  perhaps  it  did  not  much  matter. 
False  witnesses  were  easily  found  who  trumped  up  a  story  of 
vengeance,  and  it  was  useless  for  Catalina  to  swear  that  she 
had  never  seen  the  Portuguese  gentleman  till  that  evening, 
and  knew  nothing  at  all  about  him.  The  fact  that  the  dead 
man  was  a  native  of  the  place,  while  she  was  a  stranger,  told 
heavily  against  her,  and  sentence  was  passed  that  she  should 
be  hanged  in  the  public  square  in  eight  days'  time. 

Wearing  her  lieutenant's  uniform  from  which  she  steadily 


308     THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  SPANISH  NUN 

declined  to  be  parted,  Catalina  walked  firmly  up  the  ladder 
to  the  gallows  on  the  appointed  day.  The  executioner  was 
new  to  his  work,  and  bungled  the  noose  which  he  had  to  place 
round  Catalina's  neck. 

'  Here,  let  me  do  it,'  she  said  at  last ;  '  it  is  plain  you  have 
never  been  at  sea.'  But  all  the  same,  the  man's  clumsiness 
had  saved  her,  for  before  he  could  pull  the  knot,  an  order 
arrived  from  the  Governor  of  the  State  to  postpone  the  execu- 
tion till  fresh  inquiries  could  be  made.  In  the  end  the  truth 
came  out,  and  Catalina  was  set  free,  but  was  advised  by  the 
Governor  not  to  remain  in  that  part  of  the  country  for  the 
present. 

The  advice  was  felt  to  be  good  by  them  all,  but  as  Catalina 
had  no  money  the  good  Sefiora  again  came  to  the  rescue, 
and  gave  her  enough  to  buy  a  horse  and  to  take  her  to  a  large 
town,  where  she  might  find  something  to  do.  When  at  length 
Catalina  reached  the  city,  which  bore  the  name  of  Paz  or 
'  Peace,'  some  soldiers  who  were  lounging  in  the  streets  stood 
up,  and  stared  so  hard  at  her  beautiful  black  horse  that 
Catalina  began  to  suspect  that  something  was  the  matter. 
The  soldiers  said  nothing  whatever  to  her,  but  one  of  them, 
catching  sight  of  a  gentleman  a  few  paces  off,  ran  up  to 
him  and  whispered  something.  The  mayor,  for  such  he  was, 
walked  up  to  Catalina,  who  inquired  if  she  could  be  of  service 
to  him. 

'  These  men,'  said  he,  '  declare  that  the  horse  you  are 
riding  was  stolen  from  them.' 

Catalina  did  not  answer  directly,  but,  leaping  to  the 
ground,  flung  the  loose  saddle-cloth  over  the  horse's  head.  '  I 
bought  it  and  paid  for  it  in  La  Plata,'  she  replied  ;  '  but  if, 
your  worship,  these  men  really  own  the  horse,  they  will  be 
able  to  tell  you  which  is  its  blind  eye.' 

'  The  left,'  cried  one. 

'  No  ;  the  right,'  exclaimed  the  other. 

*  Well,  it  must  be  one  of  the  two,  mustn't  it,  your 
worship  ?  '  asked  she. 

'  No,  no  !  we  remember  now,'  they  replied,  consulting 
each  other  by  a  glance  and  a  sign ;  '  it  is  the  left,  of  course.' 


HAD  IT  NOT  BEEN  FOR  THE  INTERFERENCE  OP  THE  BISHOP  HIMSELF, 
IT  WOULD  HAVE  GONE  HARDLY  WITH  CATALINA 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  SPANISH  NUN     311 

'  Are  you  sure  ?  '  she  asked  again.  '  Yes — quite  sure  ; 
certain.' 

Upon  that  Catalina  whisked  off  the  saddle-cloth,  and  said 
gaily  to  the  mayor  : 

'  Now,  your  worship,  if  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  look, 
you  will  see  that  the  horse  has  nothing  the  matter  with  either 
eye  !  ' 

Then  she  bowed  and  rode  away  to  look  for  a  dinner. 

Catalina's  last  adventure  in  South  America  was  a  wild 
ride  to  the  town  of  Cuzco,  carrying  on  her  saddle  a  lady 
whose  half-mad  husband  was  seeking  to  murder  her.  He 
was  following  fast  behind,  and  his  horse  was  laden  with  no 
double  burden,  so  that  in  every  way  he  had  the  advantage. 
But  Catalina  was  a  better  rider,  and  had  some  start,  so,  in 
spite  of  a  wound  in  her  horse's  flank,  she  won  the  day  and 
placed  the  lady  in  safety  in  a  convent.  The  husband,  arriving 
just  in  time  to  see  his  victim  escape  him,  at  once  unsheathed 
his  sword,  and  inflicted  some  severe  wounds  on  Catalina. 
Indeed,  had  it  not  been  for  the  interference  of  the  bishop 
himself,  it  would  have  gone  hardly  with  her. 

But  when,  half  fainting  from  loss  of  blood,  she  was  carried 
into  the  palace  and  a  doctor  was  summoned,  she  knew  that 
the  moment  she  had  dreaded  had  come,  and  that  she 
must  now  confess  that,  in  spite  of  all  her  exploits  and  all  her 
daring,  she  was  only  a  woman.  Always  prompt  to  make  up 
her  mind,  she  asked  for  an  interview  with  the  bishop,  who 
listened  to  her  tale  with  amazement  and  sympathy.  By  his 
advice  she  entered  a  convent  till  he  could  write  to  Spain 
and  to  the  Pope,  and  obtain  forgiveness  for  having  tlirown 
off  her  nun's  habit,  nearly  twenty  years  before.  As  soon 
as  could  be  expected,  though  not  till  after  many  months,  the 
answer  came :  Catalina  was  to  be  sent  back  to  Spain. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  November  1624  that  the  ship  entered 
the  harbour  of  Cadiz,  and  saw  a  gilded  barge  approaching, 
rowed  by  men  in  royal  livery.  Who  could  it  be  intended  for  ? 
There  was  110  one  on  board  either  great  or  famous  !  At  least 


312     THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  SPANISH  NUN 

so  they  thought,  but  it  appears  they  were  wrong,  for  there 
was  one  person  whose  adventures  had  thrilled  the  hearts  of 
both  king  and  people,  and  that  was  Catalina  herself.  As  she 
left  the  barge  and  mounted  the  steps  she  beheld  the  famous 
Minister  Olivarez  waiting  to  receive  her,  and  crowds  thronged 
the  streets  through  which  she  passed  on  her  way  to  the  palace. 

Here  she  was  requested  to  tell  her  story  to  the  court,  and 
as  some  reward  for  her  courage  in  battle  and  for  her  loyalty 
to  the  crown,  a  pension  for  life  was  settled  upon  her.  Poor 
Catalina  felt  very  strange  in  the  stiff  uncomfortable  dress  of 
a  Spanish  lady,  and  far  more  than  her  honours  and  her  pension 
did  she  value  the  permission  of  the  Pope  (whom  she  visited  at 
Rome  a  few  months  later)  to  wear  on  all  occasions  the  uniform 
of  a  cavalry  officer,  together  with  a  s\yord  and  spurs. 

For  ten  years  Catalina  remained  in  Spain,  leading  a  quiet 
life,  and  feeling,  if  the  truth  be  told,  terribly  dull.  She  was 
forty-three  when  she  heard  that  an  expedition  to  South 
America  was  again  being  fitted  out,  and  she  lost  no  time  hi 
joining  the  army.  Oh,  how  happy  she  was  to  be  back  in  the 
old  life,  where,  even  in  the  slow  voyages  of  those  times,  a 
stirring  adventure  might  befall  you  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or 
night  !  They  sailed  first  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  and  stopped 
in  the  port  of  Vera  Cruz,  where  the  officers  arranged  to  go  on 
shore  and  have  a  grand  dinner  at  the  best  inn  in  the  place. 
Catalina  was  of  course  to  go  with  them,  and  jumped  into  the 
boat  with  the  rest,  laughing  and  talking  in  the  highest  spirits 
as  if  twenty  years  had  rolled  from  her.  In  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  they  reached  the  inn,  but  as  they  gathered  round  the 
table,  someone  inquired  :  '  Where  is  Catalina  ?  ' 

'  Catalina  ?  Isn't  she  here  ?  '  was  the  answer.  '  Certainly 
she  was  in  the  boat,  for  she  sat  by  me  !  ' 

'  Well,  but  where  has  she  gone  ?  '  Ah  !  that  no  one  knew  — 
and  what  is  more,  no  one  ever  did  know  ! 

FINIS 


Spottisvoode  &  Co.  Ltd.,  Printers,  Colchester,  London  and  Eton. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


REC'D  10-' 

f£8  M  „-. 

rcR  <L3pft 

rl«l 

JAM  ^ 

Form  L9-Series  4939 


- 


: 


